#woozi

I think I need someone older

Just a little bit colder

Take the weight off his shoulders

The crowd is quite suffocating.

You have to find your way through a throng of people, mostly men dressed in jerseys and holding beers, to get to the VIP seating area. Jeanie, your friend, leads the way, and you follow her tail, careful not to bump into anyone and spill your drink.

This is really not your scene.

You don't like noisy places. You don't like crowds. You don't like sports.

So what are you doing here?

Two weeks ago, you broke up with your boyfriend. It was nothing dramatic. In fact, you saw it coming. Your relationship mellowed out a long time ago, not that it was very heated in the first place, and frankly, the breakup was a relief.

It was like you finally got rid of a dead weight.

But for some reason, Jeanie, one of your closest friends, had this impression that you were depressed and having a pity party by yourself in your apartment, which you were not; you were doing a deep clean to prepare for the upcoming fall. Hence, she has dragged you out here, to a LA Dodgers game, to change the scenery and add some joy in your life.

You and your friend have truly different definitions of joy. She has been an extrovert since the time you met her in college. You, on the other hand, preferred to be by yourself.

Jeanie nudges your shoulder with hers as you two take your seats. “Lighten up, girl. Have some fun! We got these VIP seats for free!”

Right. Jeanie is friends with an influencer who gave her these tickets because she couldn’t come because of some last minute trip to a fancy Caribbean island. 

You take a sip of your chilled drink and murmur. “I’m trying. You know this is not my scene.”

“A change of scenery is always good.” She announces before taking a look around in the VIP seating area. “Plus, this place is full of hot, rich guys.”

“Rich? Sure. I don’t see any hot guys, though.” You comment drily. “I am going to stay for half an hour and then leave. You know I have to make a pitch on Monday. I need to work on my presentation.”

“Can you not think about work for two seconds?” Jeanie rolls her eyes.

“Alright, fine. I’ll pretend to be very interested in the game for your sake.” You huff playfully, and your friend smiles, wrapping an arm around you. She and her fiancé watch these games regularly, and you know for a fact that if he were not out of town right now, she would not have dragged you here, and you could be finishing up with work early and end the day soaking in a bubble bath.

Yeah, that would be nice.

A man walking by catches your attention randomly. He is dressed in a grey hoodie and grey sweatpants with a cap on his head, his pace leisurely as he strolls down the stairs to take a seat in the front row. Nothing about his clothes is flashy or exceptional, but still, he stands out and your eyes follow him. As he walks past you, you get a glimpse of his face: fair skin with dark, thick eyebrows, unfairly beautiful eyes and a plump set of lips. Silently, you observe him sit down next to a man and a moment later, take a toddler out of the man’s lap to put the child on his.

Is he a father? Damn, spotting an attractive dilf was not on your bucket list.

The game starts momentarily, disrupting your thoughts as music and cheers erupt throughout the stadium. You try your best to enjoy the game before resigning yourself to sipping your beer and scrolling through your phone while occasionally taking peeks at the front row.

You don’t get to see much except the man’s back as he keeps playing with the very enthusiastic child, clapping and squealing while the man beside them takes pictures of them.

Time ticks by. Your beer finishes. You help Jeanie take some pictures before posing for some selfies with her. And then, something happens that gets you the attention of the hot man in the front row.

The child you saw earlier with him was climbing the stairs, his little wobbly feet tackling one step at a time as he held a cup of orange juice comically large for his little hands. Just as he was wobbling past your seat, he lost his balance, and some of the juice spilt out of the cup and onto the bottom of your jeans.

The two men who were a few steps behind come running as the dilf immediately picks up the kid with an admonishing look. The taller man next to him looks in your direction, muttering an apology. The father, you assume, orders, “Mingyu, go grab some napkins for the lady.”

“No, it’s—” You stand up to protest, but the man—Mingyu—dashes away to get some tissues for you. “It’s okay. It was an accident.” You offer softly as the man admonishes the child, who looks at you with large doe eyes.

“Ethan, say sorry to her.” He tells the kid who squirms to get out of his father's hold and onto the ground. “I am sorry, miss.” The kid says sweetly, bowing his head almost so far ahead that he loses his footing.

“Oh, no. It is alright, Ethan.” You softly pat his head. “You are a big, strong boy, carrying the cup by yourself!” Ethan smiles at your words, his little teeth peeking.

Mingyu returns with the napkins and hands them to you before picking Ethan up and taking him away, climbing up the stairs. You dab the spot on your jeans with the napkin, hyperaware of the dilf’s eyes on you. Oddly, you are too shy to look him in the eye, as if he can see all your thoughts about him in them. 

“Allow me to pay for the dry cleaning.” He offers.

“Oh, no!” You refuse, embarrassed. “The stain is not that strong. It will wash away.”

“I insist. Please give me your number so that I can send the money.” He is adamant, and with no other option, you fish out your business card from your purse and hand it to him.

He takes a look at it before putting it in his pocket. An awkward moment of silence passes by as you finish wiping the stain and stand back up. “Your son is very cute.” You attempt to make a conversation.

“Oh,” he shakes his head with a chuckle. “That’s my nephew.”

Your ears perk up at his words.

“My sister-in-law had a dentist appointment, and so we brought him with us. He really loves my friend, Mingyu. Sometimes I think he loves him more than me.” He explains casually, a fond look on his face.

“I see.” You take a moment to scan him, half unconsciously. He is right there in front of you, and it is almost impossible not to drink him up. Despite wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, there is something about him that screams luxury. Maybe it is the way he walks and talks, at ease yet authoritative, like he owns the place, or maybe, you realize, it's the Rolex sitting on his wrist, thick and heavy.

You are so busy staring at him that it takes a long moment for you to realize he is staring at you staring at him. He is the first one to break the silence, saving you from further embarrassment. “Let me take a guess. This really isn’t your scene.” He waves his hand around.

A soft burst of laughter comes out of your mouth. “Is it that obvious?”

“It kind of is.” He smirks, his deep brown eyes twinkling with something unreadable, and your stomach starts doing backflips. You have to take a step back and grab onto the backrest of the seat to make sure you don’t fall.

“My ideal weekend is sleeping in and ordering takeout.” You shrug.

“That has its own appeal, I must agree.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, unable to hold eye contact with him any longer. Your heart is racing inhumanely fast in your chest, and you are half worried that you are getting a heart attack. For God’s sake, that’s a fucking stranger and for sure, someone’s boyfriend or husband, though you don’t see a ring. You cannot be drooling over him like that.

You need to get laid.

“Well, it was lovely talking to you. We are gonna head out now.” He stands straighter, fixing his cap, his blonde hair peeking from the sides. “I am once again, really sorry about that,” he motions to your jeans. “I’ll send you the money.”

“You really don’t have to.” You object, watching him climb up the stairs.

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head before turning to look at you. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Chewing on your lower lip, you watch the absolute hunk of a man walk away. With a heavy sigh, when you turn back around, you find Jeanie looking at you with the evilest of smiles, like a cat that ate the canary.

“Ugh, please,” you huff, hiding your face, making an attempt to leave. “Let me go, I need to pee!”

“Mhmm,” she hums, wrapping her arms around you and dragging to down next to her. “What was all that, huh? You were practically eye fucking him. And giving him your number, my god, girl!”

“Ugh, shut up! He asked for it.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure he will be asking for a lot more things soon when he gives you a booty call.”

You roll your eyes, shoving Jeanie’s face away from yours. Inside, the idea of him calling you does make your stomach flutter more than it should.

You should get a check-up done. And get laid.

— 

You do not get a call from him. Instead, the next morning, after you wake up, you find the money sent to your number along with a message that says, 

Sorry for the trouble once again. — Choi Seungcheol

Choi Seungcheol. The name rolls off your tongue nicely as you keep gazing at your mobile screen, dumbfounded at the amount he sent you. No dry cleaning costs that much, and you debate a while with yourself, wondering whether you should call him, send him a text, or send some of the money back.

Hoping that he may text you for a follow-up, you get on your day, preparing to get ready for work. The day, however, comes to an end with no response from him. Not a text or a call checking if you have received the money. Finally, at night when you are in bed, you decide to text him.

Hi. It’s ___ from the game yesterday. 

Five minutes later, your phone starts ringing. It is Seungcheol.

“Hello?” You half whisper, your voice suddenly catching in your throat.

“Hi.” His voice is deeper on the phone. “Sorry, I am too tired to text, so I just called you. I hope that is okay?”

“No, it’s completely fine.” You hurry. “It’s my fault for calling you this late. I’m sorry for disturbing.”

“Don’t worry about that. I just had a long day at work. But anyway, how can I help you?”

“Umh,” you take a moment to oragnize your thoughts. “I wanted to say thank you for sending the money. I really appreciate it, but the amount is much more than necessary.”

“It’s okay. You could use that to buy a pair if the stain does not come off.”

“And still I would be left with enough to grab dinner.” You joke.

“You love takeouts, right? So why not?” He hums from the other side. He remembers. You smile, chewing on your lower lip. And then, an idea pops into your head.

“I have a better idea. Let me treat you to dinner.” You state, and then squeeze your eyes shut as you hold your breath waiting for his reply. 

“Why?” he sounds confused.

“Just as a token of gratitude.” You reply, still holding your breath. The line stays silent for a few seconds, and just as you start thinking you will get rejected, he answers. “Sure. When is a good time for you?”

You have to hold back a squeal. “This Friday?”

“Works for me.”

“Great!” You quip, trying not to sound too excited. “See you then!”

“Have a good night, ___.”

— 

The week could not have been slower. By the time Friday rolls around, you are bone tired from all the work that came along with the new merger of your company. Still, you manage to leave work a little early and have a shower before getting ready. Seungcheol let you choose the restaurant, and you decided to go to a sleek Italian restaurant tucked away on the upscale side of town.

By the time you get into your Uber, Seungcheol texts you, stating that he is already there. Thankfully, there is not a lot of traffic, so you do not keep him waiting for long. 

You find him seated at a couple’s table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping on a glass of wine as he talks to someone over the phone. He is quick to spot you, however, and as soon as he sees you, he hangs up the phone, stands up, and pulls your chair out for you.

“Hi,” You murmur, voice breathy as you come to a stand in front of him. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” You let your eyes wander all over him, and boy, does he look good—black formal shirt with black pants and a nice watch. He looks effortlessly hot, especially the way a bit of his skin peeks through the top unbuttoned space of his shirt and the way his arms flex, the veins shining in the warm light because of his rolled-up sleeves, and the way the fabric of the shirt remains tight against his solid, hard chest.

You feel like a Victorian man laying his eyes upon a woman’s ankles.

“No worries at all,” he ushers you to sit down. “I took the liberty of ordering us some appetizers and a bottle of wine. I hope you do not mind.”

“Not at all,” you reply bashfully as you sit down, and he goes back to his chair. “I am actually quite hungry. I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Oh, work has been crazy.” You sigh.

“Hm,” he nods softly. “I heard your company is going through a merger currently.”

Swallowing a gulp of water, you look at him, impressed. “Looks like you stay updated.”

He chuckles, with a subtle shake of his head, his hand reaching out for your goblet to pour you some wine. 

“I googled you, by the way.” You announce with a cheeky smile. The man raises a thick eyebrow, and involuntarily, you press your thighs together underneath the table. Setting the bottle of wine down, he leans back in his chair and softly rubs his index fingers across his chin. “Oh really?”

“I was really curious.” You explain, reaching for the wine. “Turns out you are a record label owner.”

“Yeah, it is nothing special.” He waves a hand dismissively. You roll your eyes and lean closer to him, your elbows resting on the table. “Are you serious? Literally Woozi—the Woozi is your artist. That’s insane!”

“You are a fan, I assume?”

“I am. I really like his songs.” You nod. 

You are interrupted for a moment as the appetizers come alongside another server, who takes the orders for your main course. Once they are gone, Seungcheol serves you each of the dishes while saying. “I will see if I can get you an autograph.”

Quietly, you watch him load up your plate and set it down in front of you before serving himself. His thoughtful gesture gives butterflies in your stomach, and you murmur a shy “thank you”, hoping he understood that it was not because he said he would get you Woozi’s autograph.

“But enough talking about an old man like me.” He says, taking a bite of his food. “I would much rather hear about you.”

His words leave you flustered, especially as he keeps his gaze on you, his eyes unwavering. You supply information about your family, friends, and work between mouthfuls, surprised at how attentively he listens and asks thoughtful but not intrusive questions. The main course comes, and your conversations keep flowing smoothly, from your life to your hobbies to his and then to his nephew Ethan. The chemistry between the two of you is undeniable, at least that is what you think, but you have no way of knowing what is going on in his mind. He never crosses any lines or makes any attempt to touch or flirt with you, and by the time dessert is over, in the back of your mind, you are questioning yourself.

What does he think of you? A friend? A clingy young girl who was desperate to have dinner with him? 

You are so lost in your head that when the bill is set down on the table, Seungcheol is the one to grab it, exceptionally fast at that, and you watch him with an open mouth. 

“Hey!” You attempt to snatch the bill out of his hands but fail miserably as he simply puts his black card inside and hands it back to the waiter. “I was supposed to pay!”

“I know,” his voice is soft as a feather. “But I had a lovely evening today, and trust me when I say that it is my absolute pleasure to cover the bill.”

His tone, paired with the most sincere look in his eyes, leaves you at a loss for words, and you don’t know what to say, too busy trying to calm your racing heart. You manage to utter a soft “thank you,” and he returns it with a warm smile and a sincere “welcome.”

God damn it, this man is so perfect. The date is coming to an end, and you have no idea where you stand and what you should do to figure that out. With your head clouded in worries, you follow him out.

— 

The drive goes by in relative silence, and you are at your place too quickly to your liking. Seungcheol gets out of the car to walk you to the front of your apartment complex while his driver parks the car.

“Well then, I hope you had a great time tonight.” He offers a smile as you stand in front of the entrance to your building. “I did.” You nod, hoping your voice conveys your sincerity. “It would have been greater if you let me pay, but—”

“Don’t mention it.” He cuts you off with a cheeky smile. 

“Thanks again. For the dinner and for dropping me home.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” His smile is warm. “I’ll leave after you go inside.” He states and extends his hand as a polite way of urging you in. “Right, um, goodnight.” You rush, hastily turning around as your mind races with endless thoughts.

Will you see him again? He did not mention any other meeting, so that seems highly unlikely. You have his number, but can you call him? Should you call him? Would he call you?

Four steps in, you stop and turn back around. “Seungcheol?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to date me?” You blurt out, marvelling at the steadiness of your voice as you lay all your cards out on the table. 

The man in front of you blinks, once, twice, thrice and then keeps staring at you with the flattest yet most expressive face of surprise. The silence is suffocating, but you refuse to speak, worried you would embarrass yourself. After a long moment, he replies. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”

Wow.

You should say, “understandable, have a nice day,” and take your leave, but you cannot resist asking, “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He pauses. “I am much older than you.”

Wait, that is why?

“Seriously?” You have to resist rolling your eyes.

He seems surprised at your attitude. “I am almost ten years older than you, if my assumption is correct. That is a pretty big issue. Trust me, you would not want to date someone like me.”

You frown. “I don’t like how you are telling me what I should and should not want.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “That is not what I meant. Our worlds are too different. I’m not telling you how you should feel, I am just warning you.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms, which are clenched into fists. You stare at him, hard and unblinking, trying to gather your thoughts. He looks apologetic, his sharp eyes soft and guilty, and it only angers you.

“I understand,” you nod, your voice quiet. “Thank you for today. I hope you get home safely. Goodbye, Seungcheol.”

With that, you march into your apartment building.

— 

“I am telling you, he was the perfect man until he started warning me about how it would not work.” You huff, your phone pressed to your ear as you arrange all the papers laid out on your desk.

“I mean, I saw that guy, right?” Jeanie continues. “Physically, he is like an eleven out of ten. And from the way you describe his mannerisms, he is like a complete gentleman.”

“Right?” You cry, shoving all the papers in a drawer of your cubicle. 

Normally, you don’t waste time worrying about your personal affairs at the workplace. This, however, is an exception. Jeanie was gone for a trip with her fiancé during the weekend, and you had to prepare for the upcoming company gala as well, so you spent the last two days glued to your laptop, drowning your pain in work and coffee.

“But you know, I kinda like how he turned you down. I mean, at least he is not a weirdo who jumps at the offer of getting into a young girl's pants, right? If Google is correct and he is 35 years old, that means he is a good nine years older than you. I am just surprised that he understood the problems of this dynamic.”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes, slumping down on your chair. “Can you stop taking his side? He is so annoying. I wish I could just delete that guy from my mind.”

“Right, like that Kate Winslet movie.”

“Exactly,” you pause, noticing your boss coming towards your cubicle. “I’ll call you later.”

“Someone is worked up early in the morning,” Linda saunters over and leans against your cubicle. “And I know it is not work that has you stressed. So what is it?”

“I just um…” Got dumped by a hot dilf who is rich as fuck and hot as fuck and actually has a conscience. “It’s nothing.” You force a smile. "Just some personal stuff.”

“Mhm.” She hums. “If it’s a man, don’t worry too much. The right one will find his way to you.”

“Yeah,” you give her an awkward smile. Linda grins before turning on her heel, “Alright then. Conference room, five minutes. Bring those reports from the last quarter.”

— 

It is the night of the gala.

This is by far Linda’s most ambitious project, throwing a party on this huge scale. The preparations leading up to this were absolutely crazy, and you have never seen everyone work so hard in your three years at this company, meticulously going through everything from the decorations to the guest list, which included every big name from CEOs to actors.

As the guests pour in, you walk behind Linda as her shadow, carrying an iPad in your hand as you tackle one guest after another, welcoming them and then moving on to the next. Halfway through, you feel your feet getting numb, and you wish you were at home dressed in your pajamas, eating takeout instead of being here, dressed in a satin gown and high heels, after working like a dog all week.

However, you soon realize things are going to get much worse for you. As Linda chats with a few investors, you spot Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol, standing a few feet away, talking to a few other men with a smile on his face. You shift on your feet, trying to get a good look and make sure it is indeed him. 

Yes, it is. Dressed in a navy blue three-piece suit, he looks like a million bucks and a flashing sign of your embarrassing history. As soon as Linda is done talking to her guests, you pull her away and whisper-yell, “Why is Choi Seungcheol here?”

“What do you mean? He was on the guest list.”

“I know but why is he here?” 

Linda blinks, registering your words. She whips her head around, whispering, “Holy shit, he is here. He has never attended these parties…ever!”

“Exactly!” You hiss. 

“This really is our lucky year,” Linda murmurs before heading towards him in determined strides. “No!” You yelp softly, shifting left and right, thinking of a way to escape, knowing very well that there is none. With your head down, you trail after her, standing behind her to avoid making eye contact. After a brief chat, your boss introduces you to Seungcheol, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes lock with yours, and you freeze, panicking. Should you pretend not to know him? He saves you from the trouble and, shockingly, says, “Yes, I know her.”

Your boss is surprised. “Really? How?”

Oh fuck. “Um…” your voice catches in your throat, but he takes the lead. “We met at a Dodgers game a couple of weeks ago. My nephew spilled juice over her, so it was a whole thing.” He chuckles, playing it off, and you nod, smiling along.

Your boss laughs, saying something to him, but you zone out, too caught up with what just happened. He could have pretended not to know you. What was even the point of sharing all that? Now you cannot even ignore him without looking suspicious because you are supposed to know each other.

Can you not catch a break?

Linda is suddenly called away by a couple of people, and she leaves you with Seungcheol, saying, “Keep him company, will you?” With a squeeze on your shoulder, she is gone. You don't dare to turn around and look at him, thinking about ways to smoothly run away, but he stops those thoughts immediately by grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to face him.

Holy shit. He is too close to you. So close that you smell his cologne, feel his breath on your skin. Your breath stutters. “What are you doing?”

“I have been wanting to talk to you all evening.” He says, his voice soft, his gaze devoted to your face. Your body aflame, you manage to free his grip on your waist. “Okay, what can I help you with?”

“Let’s talk somewhere private.”

“I cannot. I am working.”

“10 minutes.”

“I am busy, Seungcheol. My boss is the host of this party.”

“5 minutes.”

You bite your lower lip, your train of thought scattering as your eyes fall on his lips. “After dinner.” You manage to whisper, eyes still glued to his lips. You know he is looking at you, but you find it much harder to meet his eyes than being caught ogling him.

“You look very beautiful.” He murmurs close to your ear. You swallow, your fingers clenching the device. Why is he behaving like this? One moment, he is cold, and the next, he is all up against you, whispering things in your ear. His behaviour utterly confuses you, and you cannot help but think he is playing with you.

“Enjoy the party, Mr. Choi,” you state, turning away immediately, your heart galloping like a racehorse in your chest.

— 

You have dinner at the same table. He sits right next to you, facing Linda and a few other important guests. It is stifling, being so close to him, and so dinner goes by in a blur for you. All the food tastes the same, and you have a hard time digesting everything, too wired at the reminder that you will see him alone later.

That moment comes in a flash, as the dessert plates are cleared away and the guest starts leaving the tables. You stand up, hoping to get a moment by yourself at the ladies' room, but Seungcheol springs up immediately.

“Is it okay if I steal  ___ now?” He asks Linda without any hesitation the moment dinner is over. His hand is casually against the small of your back, ready to whisk you away as you stand by his side, tense. Linda looks at him and then you, and you see a knowing smile bloom on her lips. She probably thinks you are sleeping with him.

Ugh. You want to dig a hole and stay inside forever.

“Of course. I had her work a lot the entire night. She is all yours now, Seungcheol.” She assures, and you don’t miss the loadedness in her voice. As Seungcheol ushers you away, Linda winks at you, and you stare at her until she is out of sight, utterly gobsmacked. In silence, Seungcheol leads you towards the elevators.

“Where are we going?” You peer at him in perplexity as the doors close and he presses the button to the basement. 

“Home.” He replies decidedly, leaving you stunned. Half dazed in shock, you follow him into his BMW, quietly taking a seat in the passenger seat. He is quick to strap himself in and start the engine, pulling out of the parking with a deep rumble of the engine. 

“I’m sure the irony is not lost on you.” You comment, your eyes trained on the window, still marvelling at the ludicrous events of the evening. The universe is out to test you tonight.

“Huh?” He glances at you.

“Mr. Choi, the last time we met, we had dinner, and after that, I asked if I could date you. Do you remember what your reply was?” You turn your head and direct your gaze at him, your eyes narrowed and sharp, matching the bite in your voice. The man next to you remains silent, clenching his jaw.

You continue. “You said I was too young for you. And now, a week later, you—the man who rarely attends any parties—show up to my company’s gala and, without explanation, kidnap me.”

“I did not kidnap you.” He clarifies.

“Ugh,” you close your eyes shut, rubbing your temples. “What is it that you want, Mr. Choi?” You finally breathe out a long sigh.

“First of all,” he glances at you, his gaze stern, “stop calling me that. You never called me that.”

“Well, the only relationship we have now is professional.” You quip, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

“Whatever,” he huffs, his tone impatient. “Don’t call me that.”

Silence.

The SUV carries on through the sparse streets, the night sky drifting by overhead.

“And, I regret what I said that night.” He adds after a pause.

You shift, turning your head back to look at him. His face stays unreadable, eyes focused ahead on the street. You swallow a sudden lump in your throat, staring at him for a few moments, watching the city lights reflect on his handsome face. “I don’t believe that,” you mutter, your voice much softer than before, focusing your eyes out of the window.

“I understand. I hope I can change your mind.” He says, his voice tender, but you choose not to reply. The scenery shifts as you slip into the richer side of the town, sleek towers rising overhead, tall and glittering, the wide roads stretched out in hushed emptiness. A couple of minutes later, he pulls into the underground parking of a sleek skyscraper, the security gates parting smoothly at his pass, and parks the BMW in his assigned spot. 

Quickly, he gets out of the car and jogs over to hold your door open for you as you gather your purse and fix the strap of your heels. Then, you silently follow him to the elevator, which takes you all the way to the penthouse, the doors opening to reveal a grand foyer. The place is dusted in brown, cream, grey and black, tasteful and meticulously chosen pieces that sit in perfect harmony. You are drawn to the beautiful grand piano placed by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and as Seungcheol fixes him a drink, you walk over to the instrument, tracing your fingertips on the shiny surface.

“Would you like something to drink?” He calls.

“Just water,” you reply, slowly padding over to the windows, admiring the breathtaking view of the city skyline.

A moment later, he returns, placing your mug of water on the coffee table with a soft thud, his whiskey in his left hand as he walks towards the end of the foyer and to some other part of the huge apartment. He returns a couple of minutes later, carrying something with him.

“Here you go.” He holds out his hand to you. It is a physical album of Woozi’s latest release, his autograph scrawled over the cover, directed to you. Seungcheol sits down next to you on the couch and takes a sip of his drink, “Got it signed for you a couple of days ago.”

You hold the album in your hands, trying not to appear too gleeful. “That is really kind of you, but I don’t think I can accept this.”

“You always have a hard time accepting gifts from me.” He states matter-of-factly, his eyes laser-focused on you. You sigh. “Because we never had a relationship where it could be easy or normal,” you reply, setting the album down and taking a sip.

“Right,” he murmurs and then empties the glass of whiskey before setting it on the coffee table. “Would you like a tour?”

You look at him for a moment. “Why am I here, Seungcheol?”

He exhales a loud breath, running his hands through his spiky blond hair and staring at the ground. “I…I’m sorry. I was being avoidant. I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that night and…I wanted to talk to you.”

You sit back on the couch, shifting your body to better face him. “Go ahead then.”

“God,” he groans, sitting up and looking at you. “I don’t know how to do this without sounding weird…but I regret letting you go that night.”

You snort sarcastically. “What made you change your mind? Suddenly you found me attractive?”

His gaze shifts, his eyes suddenly becoming darker. “You have misunderstood me. I thought you were attractive the moment I laid eyes on you.”

His words set your heart on fire, but you keep your guard up. “Well, you never expressed that. That night, during dinner, I really thought you would make a move because I kept dropping hints, but you were so…polite and professional and distant.”

“I was holding myself back.” He whispers, his eyes set on you at an intensity that gives you goosebumps.

“From what?”

“From this. I thought I could forget you. Ignore my feelings for you, but I cannot, and I hate myself for it.”

You frown, “Is being attracted to me that bad?”

He smirks, shaking his head as he unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt. “If you could read my mind, you would hate me too.” He pauses, setting his eyes on you once more. Involuntarily, your toes curl and your stomach dips and suddenly, the air is too thick to breathe in. “The things I want to do to you…I know for a fact you have never dated someone like me, and that is a good thing. You know why?”

“Why?” Your voice is feather light. He leans closer to you, “Because I am very, very possessive. Especially about the things I like. But you know what the real danger was? The way you looked at me that day in the stadium and the way you are looking at me now.”

“Which is?” You croak.

“Like you want me to rip your clothes off and fuck you right here. It drives me insane...the way you keep eye-fucking me.” 

Yeah, you might have had an orgasm just from his words. Also, it looks like you were not so subtle after all.

You look away, your face flushed with heat, sweat beading on your temples. Seungcheol’s arm reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek to force your eyes back on him. “I know for a fact that you want me and god, do I want you. I want to do a lot of things to you, and when I remember how older I am compared—”

“I like older guys.” You speak without thinking. He pauses, the look in his eyes shifting into something more feral. You add, “Believe it or not, you are my ideal type. A DILF.”

He blinks, “DILF?”

A chuckle slips past your lips. Right, he would not know that. “Daddy-I-would-like-to-fuck.”

He throws his head back and laughs, easing the tension in the air. “See? This is why I said no to you. Our worlds are too different. I am too old for you.”

Feeling much more at ease with yourself, you scoot closer to him, pressing your body against his and putting a hand on his. “I think you would be perfect for me. Besides, we won’t know if we don’t try. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t.”

His eyes are dark and sincere when he whispers, “I don’t think I could ever let you go.”

Your stomach does backflips, and you have to hold back a grin. “Good. That makes the two of us.” Craning your head upwards, you slowly let your eyes fall closed, murmuring, “Will you kiss me now?”

His lips are on yours immediately. He shoves his tongue inside you, tasting your mouth like a starved man while his hands envelop your body, feeling every inch of your skin. The warmth from his body and the movement of his lips against yours blankets you in an addictive sense of comfort and desire—like you always belonged here. Your body submits, relaxing against his as you let yourself feel every bit of the sensations. When he pulls away, the space between the two of you charges with tension, the heat increasing with the way his eyes bore into yours.

“I wanted to do that since this evening.” He breathes, his voice gruff.

“Just this evening?” You tease, catching your breath. Your lips are swollen, his bruising kiss lingering on your lips as you unconsciously lick them, trapped in the dark pools of his eyes. With a huff, he stands up and suddenly picks you up in his arms, carrying you away towards the bedroom. “You will get the tour later,” he announces, as you cling onto him, mortified at how easily he is carrying you in his arms. 

He takes you to his bedroom, setting you down on the bed with a soft thump and quickly works on undoing his shirt. The view is a feast for your eyes as you unashamedly drink him in, letting your eyes slowly trail over his abs, his unbelievably broad chest and even broader shoulders.

Girl dinner or whatever they call it. 

Left only in his boxers, he climbs on the bed, his hands reaching for you, his fingers tracing your back before pulling down the zipper of your dress. While his fingers do their job, his lips find yours, kissing and sucking, his tongue intertwined with yours, swallowing your moans. Your fingers grip his bicep, feeling the muscles flex underneath your skin, and you have to press your thighs together, trying to ignore the discomfort of your panties sticking to your skin.

Seungcheol helps you take off the dress, leaving you in your bra and panties only as goosebumps break onto your skin. Once again, you reconnect your lips to his, your hands pulling down his boxers while he undoes your bra. Shamelessly, you cup his length in your hands, your fingers tracing over the soft skin before giving it a few slow, deliberate strokes. The man groans against your lips and the sound goes straight between your legs, giving you an idea. 

“I want to suck you off.” You announce, pulling back from his lips, your hazy eyes matching his.

“What?” He blinks. You get to work, gently pushing him off the bed until he is on his feet, kicking away his boxers, and then you are on your knees in front of him. He is thick, girthy and hard and as intimidating as it looks, you cannot wait to have it inside you, both in your mouth and your pussy.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse under his breath, his hands snaking around your head to remove the hairs from your face and hold them back. With a determined exhale, your tongue darts out, giving his tip a kittenish lick before sucking the tip of his cock.

Seungcheol throws back his head in a loud groan. Fueled by his reaction, you keep on going, taking deeper in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his member. His grip on your hair tightens as you continue sucking, covering more of his length, adding an inch bit by bit to get used to the feeling of him in your mouth. Soon, he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth in shallow movements, your hands coming to rest on his hips to balance yourself.

“Fuck, you look so hot like this,” he pants, his eyes trained on your face, your swollen, spit-coated lips wrapped around his length as you look up at him with doe eyes. “You are going to drive me insane, fuck.” He grunts, increasing his pace, his thick length going deeper and making you gag, the filthy sound of him hitting the back of your throat, his length slick with saliva and pre cum echoing through the otherwise quiet room. The heat between your legs is almost too much to bear, the thought of him buried inside you driving you wild, making you press your thighs together to ease the ache.

“You need to stop, baby.” Seungcheol pants, his grip on you fastening. “I need to fuck you right now. The only place I will be cumming is your tight pussy.

Oh god. You take your mouth off his length, inhaling large gulps of air as he places you back on the bed. Pushing you down, he peels off your panties, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flash seeing the wet spot in the fabric. Empowered by his reaction, you give him a seductive smile and open your legs wide, giving him an unrestricted view. “Well then, hurry up, old man.”

His jaw tightens, matching his grip on your thighs. “I swear to god, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

“Promises, promises.” You tease, biting your lip. “I did not know you were such a brat. Looks like I have to teach you a lesson.” He murmurs and then lands a slap right on your clit.

“Fuck!” You fall back on the bed, the slap ringing through your entire nervous system, your body twitching. “You like that, little brat?” He lands another, much harder slap on your clit, and you swear you see stars. Tears bead in your eyes, your toes curling, and your body arching off the bed as you moan louder and louder. He gives you a few more slaps, each one stronger than the last, blurring your mind with an addictive combination of pain and pleasure so intense, it is unlike anything you have ever felt before. By the time he stops, you are out of breath and motionless on the ground, a drop of tear rolling down your eye as you stare at the ceiling and pant.

Smirking at your state, he climbs on top of you and grabs your wrists, pins them above your head. Lazily, he whispers in your ear, “If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna be a good girl. Is that clear?” You answer him with a slow nod, but he isn’t satisfied as he lands a sudden slap on your breast this time, making you squeal. “Yes. I’m sorry!” You heave for breaths, pussy throbbing from his rough treatment.

“Good girl,” he praises, placing a soft kiss on your cheek before lining his cock up to your entrance, intense eyes watching you as he whispers, “Take a deep breath, baby.” You nod as you feel him entering you, his girth taking up every inch of space inside you. Your jaw hangs loose as he keeps going deeper, making you feel like you're on the brink of exploding. A tinge of pain and a lot more pleasure surge through you, but what steals most of your focus is how incredibly full you feel. 

“Fuck, you are going to be the death of me,” he hisses, gritting his teeth as he keeps pushing inside steadily, and you wonder just how big his cock is when it finally stops. Pausing for a moment, he pulls back slowly until his tip rests inside you, and then he thrusts so hard that you scream out loud as he hits that spot inside you. “Fucking hell, you are so tight.” He pants, his warm breath hitting the side of your face. His grip on your wrists loosens, and you use that to free your hands and bring them around his body, pulling him closer and closer to you.

“Shit,” you shudder, head full of bliss as your mouth hangs open in pleasure. The ethereal sight of him on top of you, sweaty, full of desire and determination, has you clenching around him. You wrap your arms tightly around his back, your fingernails digging into his skin as he increases his pace. “Harder,” you beg almost mindlessly.

“Yeah? You want more, baby?”

You hold onto him tighter. “Yes, please.” You whine, clinging to him. He grunts, doubling his pace if that’s even possible. You feel like you are gonna break into two, in the best possible way, as he keeps hitting your sweet spot that has you moaning so loud it overpowers the squeaking of the bed.

“Say my name. Who’s making you feel this good?” He hisses in your ear, thrusting erratically, his grip bruise-like on your body. “You, Seungcheol! Please, I’m gonna cum!” You cry, your body twitching and tensing, the coil in your belly about to snap.

“Yeah? Cum then. Choke my cock. Milk it dry.” He bites your earlobe as one of his hands reaches down to circle your clit in tight motions, making you shudder violently. The coil in your belly snaps, and with a raw scream of his name, you come, pussy spasming around his length as wetness gushes out of you. On top of you, Seungcheol continues his ruthless pace, his thrusts slicker because of your wetness and even harder than before, to the point you worry the bed will break. He’s merciless, continuing his torture on your clit even after you come, and the oversensitivity settles. “Seungcheol, please…” You plead, absolutely drained. “One more. You can do one more, baby. Come with me,” he pants, whispering, “Let me fill this tight hole up.”

“Oh god,” You clench around him, delirious. The thought of him filling you up sends your body into overdrive as he pinches your clit, making you come once more with a scream of his name. The orgasm ripples through you like an earthquake, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his back. He orgasms with you, warm spurts of his seed filling you up continuously, so much that some of it leaks out. He slumps down on the bed, lying next to you, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close. You float between reality and dreamland for a while, catching your breath and lying completely still, your brain chemistry permanently altered.

A while later, Seungcheol helps you clean up before dragging you back to bed, his arms wrapped around you tightly as he spoons you from behind. 

“You okay?”

“I think I died and went to heaven,” You whisper, eyes closed. The man softly chuckles behind you, and you almost find it annoying how attractive that simple action is. “Remember how you were saying you could never let me go?” You mumble. “It is I who will not be letting you go. I will lock you up and keep you all to myself.” You know he is smiling as he wraps his arms tighter around you and nuzzles your neck. “Good. That’s where I would rather be.”

Turning around, you cup his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss, his arms enveloping you, his fingers tracing your upper back and your waist as his tongue finds its way inside your mouth. Looks like round two is about to start.

For a bonus, extra special scene, click here or head over to my Patreon! This work is cross-posted on AO3. Please support me over there as I recently opened my account!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

a/n 2: atp, just call me a cheol fic blog because he's all I'm writing about. no worries, the next fic i am working on is a DK fic which will probably come out in october end or november. anyway, this was a purely self indulgent fic lol so thank you for reading this filth. i can never write pwp because somehow, the lore ends up being too long. still, thank you for making it till the end and i would love it if you left a comment and reblogged! thank you for your time and until next time, stay safe!

Neither of you say anything for a few seconds, you don’t know what to say. You’re pissed off he’s made you wait. But can you really be mad at a man that looks like that? Because he’s big, bigger than you even imagined. Not that you’ve spent much time thinking about the body of the drummer of your favourite band. You’ve definitely not searched Choi Seungcheol arms over a hundred times on pinterest. Absolutely not. 

“You’re not Woozi ,” He smirks, his gaze assessing you from head to toe as he leans on the door frame with his big, muscley, perfect, biteable arms folded. Fuck you need to stop looking at them, but they’re just so big.

“N-no,” Damn, his smirk only grows because of your stuttering. “You need to sign this.” 

“There’s no fans allowed into the hotel.”

“I’m not a fan.” 

“Sure you’re not. Listen, unless you want to join us, or wait for her to leave and then come in and get a taste of this," he gestures at his body, "I suggest you fuck off and crawl back under whatever weird little rock you came from. Breaking into a hotel is stalker behaviour." His smile is one of sarcasm and it’s at that moment you suddenly realise that the drummer from your favourite band is a fucking asshole. 

“I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.” You smile back, enjoying seeing him falter a little, “You or rather your friend needs to sign this. I’m Woozi’s new assistant. I’d ask if you could shout your friend out here for me but I presume you don’t know her name, so can I come in?” 

You don’t wait for an answer. Just push past him, ignoring how his skin seems to be as soft as a baby's, and storm into the room to find the poor girl who needs to sign the NDA in your hand. 

“Hi,” 

“Who’s she?”

“He doesn’t know my name, just like he probably doesn’t know yours. And honestly you seem much too pretty a girl to be treated that way.” 

They both look at you a little shocked but you don’t care. 

You scan around the room, noting how they’ve clearly had quite the night if the various pieces of clothing around multiple surfaces are anything to go by. You can’t help scrunch your nose a little in disgust when you see three used condoms thrown messily near the bin. You suppose you should be thankful for small mercies, at least he’s not riddling the poor women with diseases and he’s saved an unsuspecting cleaner the trouble of cleaning cum stains off the floor because the idiot has tied a knot in them. 

Woozi said he hated having to ask you to do this but there’d been an emergency with the guys taking the stage down in Osaka, ready for you all to move onto Tokyo, and he needed to rush off. You get why he hates it, it’s like making sex a business transaction and you’re the one who’s having to facilitate it. But if you didn’t, you risk the band’s secrets being spilled and then every fan in the world would have the same realisation as you. That Seungcheol is a prick. 

“He knows my name,” She narrows her eyes at you but you’re just trying to ignore the little marks Seungcheol has left behind on her neck and breasts. Her only being in her underwear makes it easier to see them and the sight leaves a weird feeling in your stomach even though you’ve just recently decided you hate him. 

She turns to Seungcheol, waiting for him to say that he obviously knows the name of the woman he’s spent the night with. 

You wish you had her blind optimism. 

“S-sure! It’s er…….well it’s er………J….” His “friend's” eyes get wider as he tries to ask if it starts with a J and your heart sinks for her. 

You’re all for one night stands. Or not having one night stands. It’s up to whoever it is. But you know if any of the people you’d slept with did what he’s doing right now, you’d feel fucking horrible. 

“Could you just sign this please?” You say softly, trying to ignore the clear awkwardness you’ve helped contribute to. Fuck you shouldn’t have said that about names, you were just pissed at him being an asshole by the door. 

“No. He can tell me my name.” 

You inwardly grown. You love that she’s standing up for herself but you’d rather be back in the hallway whilst she did it. 

“Baby,” He smiles, moving towards her, “we just met last night!” 

“And yet I’ve had your dick in my mouth. I tend to like to know the names of people whose dick I’ve had in my mouth. And as your tongue has been in my ass hole, I presumed you’d know mine” 

Well shit. 

You decide to appraise a very odd looking stain on the ceiling and ignore whatever is unfolding in front of you. 

“I didn’t……..Did I?......Oh shit, yeah I remember…….NO!” He rushes but it’s too late. 

“You’ve already forgotten what happened between us?!!! You literally had your tongue down my throat a minute before she came in here.” 

Is there anywhere in this poor woman Seungcheol hasn’t had his tongue?!

You resist giving her a piece of your mind for the way she said “she” and continue assessing what you think might be a wine stain on the ceiling, though how it got there you don’t know. 

“Tell me my name and I’ll sign it.” 

You glance at Seungcheol, you can tell he’s panicking but you’ve never met either of them until about three minutes ago, so it’s not like you could help even if you wanted to. 

When you move over to the desk to get a pen, hoping Seunghceol may somehow remember this woman’s name in this lifetime, you spot her small card holder by her phone. A small card holder holding her drivers license. You hate having to help him, you’d much rather see him suffer but you do technically now have to have his best interests at heart. You don’t suppose your job with Woozi will last very long if you allow this woman to decimate the character of one of the band members. 

You glance round, noting she hasn’t moved and does still have her back to you, just as Seungcheol’s panicked eyes find you and he realises what you’re doing. 

Slowly, you pick up her wallet and move the license up a little. It feels less like a complete disregard for her privacy and not so big a break in girl code to not fully take it out of the card holder. 

“SORA” You mouth dramatically to Seungcheol whilst he tries to act natural. But him fucking squinting like he doesn’t understand isn’t helping. 

“SAW,” You mouth, mimicking sawing something in half, “RAAAAA.” 

This is fucking stupid and more than a little demeaning. But the big idiot still doesn’t get it. 

“SAAAAAAAAW,” You try to act out seeing something in the distance but she turns around and you have to suddenly act natural, holding her card holder behind your back. 

“Well?! MY NAME SEUNGCHEOL?!” She whips round back to him. 

“SORA.” You mouth in the biggest way you can. 

“So…..” You put your thumbs up and mouth it again, “So…ra…..Sora! You’re Sora! See! I never forget a name.” He grins.

You roll your eyes and quickly throw the card holder back just before she turns to check you’ve not helped him in some way. 

Fucking moran. He behaves like a chauvinistic pig and yet still somehow gets away with it. 

“Could you sign this?” You pear round her with the paper and pen in your hand. 

“Like I’d want to tell anyone about being anywhere near him.” She snarls, much to Seungcheol’s shock. 

He can’t honestly think she believes he remembered her name? He cannot be that arrogant to think she’d let what just happened slide and continue fawning over him like she no doubt was last night. 

She snatches the paper and pen from your hand and marches over to the desk to fill out her name and sign it. You follow Seungcheol’s gaze and note he’s not got a care in the world that he’s probably ruined poor Sora’s whole week. He’s too busy eyeing her ass hungrily, his busy tongue licking his lips like she's lunch. 

What. An. Asshole. 

“Here.” She slams the paper into your chest and throws the pen at your head. 

There is no need for that. And you’re ready to tell her so before Seungcheol pipes up. 

“Hey, leave your number. We come back to Osaka every tour y’know.” He leers at her as she quickly gets dressed. 

“Get fucked.” 

And with that she’s gone in a waft of floral perfume and anger. 

“Oh and!” She shouts from the doorway, “Your dick isn’t as big as you say it is!”

The door slams behind her and you both just stand in silence. 

“That is not true and the way she was waddling proves it.” 

“You’re disgusting.” You glare at him. 

“You shouldn’t speak to your boss like that,” he smirks, clearly not affected by a thing that's just happened. 

“You’re not my boss. Woozi is.” 

“He works for us.” He scoffs. 

“You’re signed to his and Jeonghan’s company. They own the company. My contract is with him specifically. I have nothing to do with you.” 

“I always like a hot nerd.” He creeps closer. 

“Well. I imagine most of the world’s population could be classed as a nerd if they’re comparing themselves to your intelligence.” 

You march out of the room. You don’t need a response from him, you’ve already made your mind up about him. Choi Seungcheol is a womanising lowlife who you never want to speak to again. You will never let him anywhere near you, not even if he was the last man on earth.

Tokyo 

“Did something happen between you and Seungcheol?” Woozi asks, somewhat apprehensively. 

You’re sitting in his suite with him and Jeonghan, all three of you with laptops out, trying to plan schedules for recording the new album and deciding which brand deals, out of the influx of offers that have come in recently, any of the guys should do. 

It’s only been five days since you started working for Woozi but you’ve found him to be the complete opposite of Seungcheol. In fact you’ve found that almost everyone on the staff is the opposite of Seungcheol. Every single person, including the other band members, have made you feel nothing but welcome, each of them coming over to introduce themselves and offer help if you need it. 

The same cannot be said for Seungcheol. 

He has been the most petulant idiot you’ve ever met. 

He purposefully asked you where a man called Jihoon was in front of everyone, having not uttered a word to you since the little debacle in his suite. When you told him you didn’t know who Jihoon was, he humiliated you in front of the whole band and the stylists by replying “oh right yeah, I forgot Woozi only tells people he likes his real name.”. Nobody laughed, they all just looked perplexed at what the hell was going on as you both glared at each other. They didn’t even realise you’d been introduced, let alone already seemingly enemies. 

You got him back though. Sort of. 

You’d had to travel between Osaka and Tokyo with Seungcheol and Woozi because Seungcheol was designing new bass drum skins and you’d be the one putting the order in. As Hoshi had already gone ahead for an event and the two other members tended to like to travel with their girlfriends, you’d ended up with the king of the boneheads. 

Just as you saw him taking a gulp of his drink out of the corner of your eye (and checked there were no cars behind you), you shouted out that there was a cat in the road. The driver slammed on and poor old Seungcheol ended up covered in coffee. 

It did somewhat backfire on you though. He had sent his bags in one of the other cars and because his sweater was covered in coffee, he decided it was probably best that he just not wear anything at all and opted to discard his sweater completely. You tried your best not to look at him, really you did, but you couldn’t help glancing at him. His knowing smirks and the constant need to catch yourself before you looked at him again, made that seven hour car journey feel like days. 

“No.” You glance at him before going back to your laptop, “Why?” 

“He’s just being……odd.” 

“Is he not odd all the time?” Jeonghan snorts at that and you feel a weird sense of pride that you’ve managed to fit in with them so quickly. 

“She’s got a point there.” 

“I guess. He just seems different.” 

You feel a weird twinge in your stomach at that, a slight panic that there’s something wrong or going on with him. Though you’re not sure why you care, he’s nothing but an ass to you. 

Maybe it’s because of what happened in his suite that first morning? He doesn’t like that you saw him being humiliated and now he’s being weird because of it. But he didn’t seem bothered by it at the time so why would he care after the fact. 

“There was a girl in his suite when you got me to take the NDA to him, maybe it’s that.” 

“_____,” Jeonghan smiles knowingly, “I’d be more surprised if there wasn’t. I don’t think he’s ever been alone in a hotel room in all the years we’ve been doing this.” 

That leaves a sour taste on your tongue but you know it has no right to be there. 

“She wasn’t exactly…..kind….to him when she left. He’d forgotten her name and she didn’t really like that,” 

“Ugh Seungcheol,” Woozi leans back in his seat, wiping his face with his hands, “when will he grow out of all this bullshit!” 

“I agree with you but that doesn’t explain what’s going on with those two,” Jeonghan points at you. 

“Well. Well. I might’ve called him disgusting?.” Your cheeks heat when neither of them give any sort of reaction. 

You jump slightly when laughter ripples through the air and they both beam at you. 

“I think you’ll fit in well here ______.” Woozi smiles whilst Jeonghan nods along. 

You smile and sheepishly say thank you but you can’t help feeling weird. Something isn’t sitting right with you at all and you’re certain it’s down to Seungcheol. It’s probably hatred and the fact his voice sounds like nails down a chalk board. Yeah…… That’ll be it. It’s definitely nothing else. 

One of the main reasons you were excited for this job was because you genuinely loved the band. You were a fan of their music, I fan of their style, you just loved everything about them. You didn’t even really have a favourite, they just all seemed like great guys who made amazing music and that was it. You’d told Woozi you liked the band during your interview and he said it was a good thing, it meant you’d care about your work and so far, that is proving to be true. 

You’re standing at the side of the stage watching as thousands of screaming fans sing every word back to Shadow as they perform. That would've been you, in total awe of them as they rocked out in front of tens of thousands of fans. 

But instead. You're standing glaring at the drummer whose arms glisten with sweat every time he strikes a cymbal and who you're desperately trying not to look at. But you can't help. He's gone too far. 

About twenty minutes before they were due to go on stage, the whole crew was gathering for a team talk. It was everyone. Stylists, security, fuck you're certain even the guys that print the lanyards were there. 

But one person that wasn't, was you. 

He was holding the door open for one of the makeup artists to go into the large shared dressing room. You knew he was going to do something, he'd seen you walking towards him. You know he had because he'd made a point of checking out the makeup artist's ass and then directly looked at you with a smarmy smile. 

You braced yourself for the door closing on you or him sticking out his foot to trip you up. But he took it a step further, a step too far. 

“Where are you going?" Seungcheol blocks off the doorway as he leans on it. 

"To the team meeting,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. Surely it's fucking obvious where you're going. 

"Why?” 

"Because it's a whole team meeting. Move out of the way please.” Adding the please is done begrudgingly but he is still a member of the band and so you can't just tell him to fuck off and kick him in the balls how you'd like to. 

"But you're not part of the team.” 

"What?” You frown, "Move please, I don't want to be late.” 

"You can't be late for something you're not invited to. You told me yourself, you work for Woozi. Everyone in here is part of team Shadow,” he declares like it's obvious, "guess you're not part of any team.” He sighs. 

Embarrassment creeps up your spine. You're certain Woozi would be expecting you to be there but short of pushing past him and making a scene, you're not entirely sure how to get round this. 

“You've had your joke," you mumble, “come on move, we'll be late." 

“I will be late, you mean. You're probably early to whatever plans you have for the evening. There's probably some private moment going on that you can shoe horn your way into and make ten times worse.” 

You stare at him. Both of you almost challenging the other to look away but the difference? He holds all the cards and he knows it. You don't win in this situation. If you tell him to fuck off, he'll say you've been unprofessional and no doubt tell Woozi and you lose the best job you've ever had. Or you don't tell him to fuck off and you have to walk away in embarrassment. 

"Is Woozi in there?” 

"I mean yeah, we're all one big family really.” He shrugs, “It'd be weird if he wasn't there.” He insisted, his smirk only getting more annoying. 

Part of you wants to punch him, to put this arrogant rock star in his place. But there's a weird feeling in your chest too, that you can't quite figure out what it means. 

He doesn't stop looking at you, his smirk never faltering. But you just pull your sweater over your hands and avert your eyes, pretending to look past him and like this isn't making you want to cry. 

“Bye then." You say quietly, sending him a false smile but still not looking him in the eye. 

You wander down the corridor to the side of the stage and hope you find something there that'll occupy you when the “one big family" all turn up to start the concert. At least then if Woozi asks where you were you can say you were caught up with something. 

Seungcheol watches you leave pretty pleased that he's got the upper hand. He'd been enjoying the little back and forth you guys had been having the past few days. And if he's honest, he wants to get you back for the other morning. You were fucking annoying and ever since he's had this need to get a rise out of you. 

But as he watches you walk off, he gets a weird feeling in his chest that unsettles him. His smirk leaves and his eyebrows inadvertently knit together. He got this feeling when you called him disgusting too, though he ignored it then and tried to put it down to his hangover. Add that to the leaping feeling he had in his stomach when something the driver said made you laugh, he's starting to get a little worried about all these unknown feelings he's having. 

This must be what hatred feels like. The sound of your laugh must physically cause him pain and the feelings in his chest are just pure annoyance when you're around. Yeah. That’ll be it. It's the only logical explanation. 

“You know we don't object to workplace relationships,” You jump a little, you hadn't realised Jeonghan was so close to you. 

"What do you mean?” You avert your eyes to him but quickly refocus on the band. 

"You and Cheol, you keep staring at each other and I think even Woozi's realised there's a tension there and he's normally so lost in schedules and shit, he doesn't realise anything.” 

"I don't stare.” You snap. 

"Whatever you say,” Jeonghan smirks, "I know he's got a reputation but he's one of the kindest guys you'll ever meet under all that swagger.” 

You wonder how much Seungcheol pays people to lie for him. You've got proof he's not a kind person, and you do not believe that he doesn't live up to that "reputation” Jeonghan is referring to. Both you and Sora can attest to that. 

"There's no tension. I'm just trying to do my job.” 

"Okie dokie.” Jeonghan smiles though you can tell he’s not convinced at all. "Oh! And we missed you at the staff meeting! You don't have to work so hard!.” 

You watch as Jeonghan glides away. It relieves a few of the worries you'd had about not being missed at the meeting, at least there seems to be people who are genuinely looking out for you. But it just makes you more pissed at the drummer who adverts his eyes the second you look back over to him. 

This can't all be because of that first day. He's taken an instant dislike to you and, to be honest, you feel exactly the same way. 

One thing is for sure. You won't let him win.

Bangkok 

And so for the next three weeks of the Asia leg of the tour, a battle ensues. You both happen to be at breakfast at the same time? You’re making sure that you take the last of the muesli he likes. He notices that you’re carrying a heavy bag? He’ll purposefully pick out another member of staff who is also carrying something and make a grand gesture of asking if they need help, right in front of your face. 

Everyone knew what was going on. It was like the both of you couldn’t hear a conversation going on with the other without passive aggressively butting in. 

“Do you want to try this hat for the magazine cover?” 

“Are you sure that would fit over his enormously oversized head?” You’d chide as the room erupted in laughter and Seungcheol glared at you through the mirror. 

Or. 

“______ seriously you’ve got me so organised I’m running out of things to worry about.” Woozi beamed at you. 

“Pretty easy to be so anal about shit when she’s got a permanent stick up her ass.” 

It was just an everyday part of your life now. Wake up, make sure Woozi has everything he needs and then go out of your way to piss off Seungcheol. His schedule seemed pretty much the same except where you organised Woozi, he played for thousands of fans and partied until the early hours. 

And it’s his partying, or rather the whole group partying, which is putting you in a situation you didn’t really want to be in right now. 

Seungcheol had used your dislike for partying when he was trying his best to embarrass you in front of everyone. The trouble for him was that you didn’t care what he thought about you in that respect. You’d never been one for huge crowds of drunk people, it just wasn’t for you. You loved socialising, you loved going out with friends for drinks or good food but being in a confined space with a bunch of sweaty drunk people? You’d really rather sit in a bath of ice. 

But this was the last night of the Asia tour. It was a big deal and even though you’d told Seungcheol to get fucked when he’d called you boring for not going, it turned out you weren’t going to get away with it so easily. Woozi made you promise you’d join them all for one drink at least and your best friend at home had made you promise you’d put yourself out there more just before you started this job. You didn’t need to make sure everything is ready for the next day or spend your time writing in your diary, or any of the other one hundred things you could think of doing to avoid situations you felt uncomfortable in. You just needed to be brave enough to actually go.

So with Woozi’s promise that you only had to stay for one drink and your best friend’s words whirring round your mind, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror in your room, not knowing whether you’re even dressed right. You know you can’t wear your usual sweaters or jeans but you didn’t want to seem too over dressed, too out of your comfort zone. 

You’d gone with a leather mini skirt which you didn’t even realise you’d packed, your good old bestie still looking out for you even when she’s not with you, and a tank top that felt too tight but you could work with it and it made your tits look great even if you do say so yourself. You hadn’t brought heels so your trusty doc martens would have to do. It isn’t something you’d wear to a club you suppose but drinking with a rock band? It works. Sort of. You think? 

“Fuck this get a grip _____. No one will even notice you’re there, one drink and then you can come back and pack.” You mumble to yourself as you fix your eyeliner in the mirror. “You’ve got this.” You fake a smile to yourself before you take a deep breath, grab your phone and head to the rooftop bar of the hotel. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought, you’d had a drink with Dino’s girlfriend who has become a good friend in the month you’ve been on tour with them. And Woozi had made you join him in a dance but it felt very much like dancing with your dad and so you’d spent most of your time laughing with him whilst he showed you how to do the robot. 

You didn’t see Seungcheol. You’re not even sure why you were thinking of him. He was probably with some woman by now already and he wouldn’t want to see you anyway. You tell yourself your eyes scan the room every three minutes because you want to prove a point to him. You want to show him that you’re not as boring as he says you are. But why should you even care what he thinks? It’s probably just because your competitiveness has peaked in this month-long battle with Seungcheol, you just want to show that you won this little challenge. It’s not even really about proving a point to him. It’s about winning. 

You bid your goodbyes to Dino and his girlfriend as they run off giggling after informing you they’re going for a late night swim, and you head towards the elevator. 

“Hold the door please!” You run towards the closing door as a hand stops it and you throw yourself in. 

“Thank you,” you sigh before you realise who it is, “oh.” 

“_____?” Seungcheol saying your name makes you feel weird but it’s probably irritation. That’s the only thing that would explain the goosebumps that’ve erupted all over your body. 

Your eyes drift to the woman in his arm, one of her hands under his shirt, tickling his skin. You get the sudden urge to scratch this woman’s eyes out, a feeling of utter rage coming over you like a dark cloud but you bat it away. You don’t care who touches him. 

His eyes drift over you, his eyebrows knitting together but he snaps back to himself and holds his girl a little closer. 

“Does she work for you?” 

“Nah, she works for Woozi. A professional busy body.” 

You know he’s waiting for your reply but the sight of the woman still touching his skin has you mute. What the fuck is happening and why does it feel like those words he just uttered actually hurt? You’d been tearing shreds off each other for weeks and it hadn’t bothered you. The last time you’d truly felt upset by something he’d done was the staff meeting but you were over that. Now though it just felt like he was being mean for the sake of it and you were so confused by what you were feeling towards him and his “friend” that you can’t even muster a response. 

“You came then?” He smirks when he doesn’t get a response. 

“Oh you’ve been to the party? You didn’t feel like dressing up?” She says in the most sickly sweet way she can. 

Fuck you feel like you’re in school, the resident school bully deciding it’s your turn to feel their nastiness. 

You just glance at both of them and then look forward, willing the elevator to move quicker. 

“It’s no wonder she’s going back to her room alone,” you hear her whisper to Seungcheol, although you’re fairly certain she intended you to hear it. 

Sure you weren’t overly confident in your outfit but the longer the night went on, the more you felt happy in your own skin. Others at the party were dressed like you, you didn’t stand out. If anything it’s her that looks out of place, a sequin dress and sky high slingbacks making her look like a christmas tree. And yet her words are cutting as deep as a knife. 

Your bottom lip threatens to wobble but you stay strong. You won’t break in front of either of them. 

The elevator rings, your floor finally arriving and you rush out without sparing them another glance. 

You don’t see how Seungcheol moves like he wants to say something to you or how once you’re out of the elevator he suddenly distances himself from the woman he was with, much to her confusion. 

You just rush to your room, rub the makeup off your face in a shower that’s so hot it’s only a few degrees below actually burning your skin and spend an hour making sure you’ve packed everything you came with. Making sure the leather skirt is right at the bottom of the pile. Just the sight of it makes you want to melt away in a puddle of embarrassment. 

You’ve so many feelings fighting for supremacy that you don’t know which to focus on most. Sure you’re embarrassed but the thing that’s annoying you is why you hated that woman before she’d even insulted you. You had every reason to loathe her now she’d made you feel like the ugliest runt in the litter but before that you wanted to end her. The second you saw her hands on Seungcheol’s skin you wanted something horrible to happen to her and you can’t explain why. 

You don’t get much sleep after all that. Just toss and turn with her words ringing in your ears as images of her and Seungcheol laughing about how pathetic you are, as they fuck each other race through your mind. 

And what’s even worse. Things are going to get a whole lot more uncomfortable.

Hua Hin- Thailand 

“Ok what's wrong?" 

All four members of Shadow take up a table and four seats on the coach taking them to the Thai resort they'll spend a few days at before the South American leg of the tour begins. It wasn't the whole crew, just the members, girlfriends and managers. And you. At everyone's insistence other than, of course, Seungcheol. 

The four of them had been having a little song writing session as the coach would take four- five hours. But Seungcheol hadn't joined in with any of it, not even when they'd purposely rhymed the same word twice just to annoy him, knowing he hates repeating words when they can't think of a proper rhyming couplet. 

“Nothing." 

“She was that bad?" 

“Who?" 

“Whoever you took back to your room." 

“Oh." He wriggles in his seat, “nothing happened. I asked her to leave, I wasn't in the mood." 

His three friends stare at each other wide eyed. 

“You weren't in the mood?" Dino clarifies. 

“Are you not well?" Hoshi asks. 

“I'm fine! Can't a man just not be in the mood?" His eyes flick up the bus but then back down at the wordless notebook. 

They all turn to look where he just has, knowing looks on their faces when they face each other again. Because it's you. You're who Seungcheol has just glanced at unknowingly and it's you who's been the only woman they've ever seen get under Seungcheol's skin. 

They've seen it happening right in front of their own eyes. How both of you proclaim to hate each other and yet you both search for each other in every room you go in. You both spend each day seeking each other out even if it is to be complete idiots. 

"How do you know when you've gone too far?” 

"What do you mean?” 

"Like when banter becomes bullying?” 

The three exchange looks and Dino kicks Mingyu under the table, silently telling him to take the lead. 

“What makes you ask that?" 

Seungcheol doesn't look up from the paper, instead he decides to just draw little flowers on the pages. But he needs to figure out what's going on, he can't keep feeling all these feelings every day. 

“Last night," he sighs, “that girl, she was really mean to _____. Basically called her ugly." 

“That's fucked up." 

“But…..is it…..is it fucked up that I didn't stick up for her?" 

“Yeah." 

“Dude what the fuck!" Hoshi kicks Dino. 

“What?! I'm just saying if you hear someone say that to anyone unprovoked then you should stick up for them. Unless it's some like seven foot dude with an axe." 

“Why are you and _____ the way you are?" 

“What?" Seungcheol’s eyes snap to Mingyu. 

“She's kind, she's funny, she's a bit shy, sure but she's part of the team. Why are you two the way you are?" 

“We're not like anything. Just normal." 

“We all know that's not true Cheol. There's something about her. And you know it." 

“I can't stand her." 

“Cheol, you look for her in every room apart from when you're partying because you know she's not there." 

“That's because I know she's going to pull some bullshit!" He shouts but lowers his voice when Woozi and Jeonghan turn around, luckily you have your headphones on and are deep in some game on your switch. 

"You've been turning up early to soundcheck then you know you can speak to her or annoy her at least.” 

"I've decided to be more professional,” he shrugs. 

"You're drawing the exact flower she has on her necklace.” 

All four of them look down at the piece of paper. Shit. It is the same flower that you have on a gold chain. You wear it every day, a small golden charm on the necklace, it was a gift from your parents when you graduated. Seungcheol knows that because he heard you tell Jeonghan when he asked about it, he remembers wanting to punch Jeonghan on the nose for daring to take an interest in you. He wanted to ask about it. Not Jeonghan. 

"That's not……I'm not…. Fuck I don't know what to do! I feel weird whenever she's around and I spend most of my time counting down the hours until it's time to meet up with everyone because I want to see her. And taunting her is the only way I think she'll talk to me. Because someone like her isn't going to be interested in me! Fuck the first day we met was because she came to my room and saw exactly how I behave! And I feel like my heart is physically breaking whenever she laughs and jokes with someone else because I want to do that. I want to make her laugh. And she looked so fucking pretty last night but I didn't think she’d come to the party! And I didn't know that woman would be such a bitch to her! And she looked so fucking sad and I did nothing. I'm having all these feelings and I don't know what they are or how to deal with them! I don't even like partying anymore! You know, the other day all I could think about was how much I wanted to just sit with her and hold her and talk to her! I've never just wanted to sit and talk to a woman!”  

He's gasping for breath by the time he's finished. All of them including Woozi and Jeonghan and Dino and Mingyu's girlfriends are looking at him in shock. Thankfully you're still blissfully unaware of the mini breakdown Seungcheol has just had at the back of the coach.  

"You need to tell her.” Dino's girlfriend chimes in kindly. "Not telling her will just make a huge mess.” She looks knowingly at Dino who just sends everyone an embarrassed smile. Everyone knows the chaos that went on between them on the last tour. 

"It's gone too far. Even if it hadn't, it definitely has now. She looked so fucking sad when she left the elevator last night. She isn't going to trust my intentions is she?!” 

"She will.” Mingyu nods. 

"Would you?” Seungcheol asks their girlfriends who are on the table next to them. 

"Well,” they look at each other. "Probably not? But!” Mingyu's girlfriend rushes to say, "I think you need to show her who you really are. Don't just go in with some big confession. She needs to know the real you, the one we all know. Not this idiot who knocked a drink all over her." 

“She did that to me first!" 

“Grow up." She deadpans as Mingyu giggles behind him. 

“How do I show her! I doubt she'll even talk to me." 

"You'll think of something.” 

"Yeah I doubt it," Seungcheol pouts, slamming his pen on the notebook. “I even downloaded a list of the best pickup lines last week when I'd convinced myself to do something. But I'm not gonna be one of those sad acts that creep up on women at bars with some awful line to be laughed at." 

“We're here!" Your voice breaks through the tension as you excitedly look through the windscreen and throw your headphones off your head. 

“Fucking great." Seungcheol grabs his bag and storms up the coach. 

“He’ll sort this out, won't he?" 

“I hope so. They’d make a cute couple and I'm never wrong, am I baby?" Mingyu's girlfriend taps his chest to back her up. 

“Never. She clocked you two the day you met." He smiles at Dino. 

“We weren't obvious!" 

“Whatever you say dude."

They all hurl themselves off the coach, not even noticing just how beautiful the resort is that Jeonghan found because they're all so lost in watching the way you try to avoid Seungcheol and how he can't seem to keep his eyes off you. That is apart from Mingyu who is happily accepting the snacks being offered by the resort staff as they all enter the main building.

“_____! We thought you'd gotten lost!" 

You smile at them as you sit down but in reality you're questioning everything. You didn't plan for this break and yes you've got summer clothes with you and bikinis, but you didn't really plan to be at a five star Thai resort. And after last night your usually high confidence was wavering. 

"I love your dress,” Mingyu's girlfriend says to you quietly as you sit between her and, sadly, Seungcheol, at the long ornately decorated table that's been set up by the golden beach. 

"Thank you. I didn't know we'd be coming somewhere like this. I think I'll need to check out the stores in the village tomorrow.” 

"Let me know when you go! We could go, all the girls together.” 

"I'd like that,” you smile. And for the first time today, it's a genuine one. 

She goes back to talking to Woozi about something and everyone else seems to be preoccupied too, so that just leaves you and Seungcheol. You fiddle with your thumbs before your eyes land on the wine bottle. But before you can even reach for it, Seungcheol grabs it. Does he have to do this? Does he have to carry it on even…..now…. What? 

“Why have you done that?" 

“You didn't have a drink." 

“But I could pour one for myself." 

“Well I needed a top up so I thought I'd do yours too." 

“Why?" 

“Why not?" 

You don't answer, just watch him and wait for him to take a sip of his wine. 

“What are you looking at?" 

“I want to see you drink it first. Make sure it's not poisoned or some shit." 

“You know what?" He turns to you like he's going to fire something back, “n-never mind." He takes a sip of his wine and goes back to staring into the distance. 

Well. That's new. Very new. Perhaps he's worn out from all the fucking last night and can't be bothered with you anymore. But the idea of him not even bothering with your usual banter leaves you feeling hollow. 

The meal passes in a cloud of laughter but you can't help feeling weird. Seungcheol doesn't say any shitty comments, he doesn't purposefully knock your food off the table, it's all very…..cordial? It's unsettling if anything. 

“Enjoy your bats!" Woozi laughs as he waves you off. 

“You can still always come with me? It's famous y’know!" 

“Sure it is," he beams at you, “I think I'll spend the whole evening by the pool." 

“Fair enough," you giggle as you walk back to your room. 

The second you found out where you were going, you were online looking for things to do. You loved making sure you'd seen the sights, the pool is great and everything but what if you never come here again? Every pool more or less looks the same, the sights don't. 

And it would work two fold, if they all broke off into couples or little groups, you had things to do so you wouldn't feel lonely. 

Amazingly, none of them felt like coming to see the bats of Na Yang cave leave for hunting this evening. But according to Trip Adviser it was well worth seeing. Each night thousands of bats leave the cave and even though you don't like bats in the slightest, it sounds like quite the sight to behold. 

You quickly change into shorts, t-shirt and sneakers, grab your camera that you knew would come in handy at some point and rush off to the main hotel building, where apparently a mini bus will pick you up to take you to the bats. 

Just as you're settling into your seat, the mini bus being a lot more packed than you thought it would be, the driver stops. 

“Sorry! Sorry! Thanks for waiting!" 

"No problem,” the driver says kindly. 

What the fuck is he doing here? You presumed he'd be heading out to find some bar or club later tonight. Does he want to upset you that much that he's willing to even ruin your excursion? 

"There's one seat left, you're lucky!” 

Well. That's where the driver is wrong. There's nothing lucky about the last seat available being next to you. You try not to look at his thighs as he sits down next to you. You try not to look at him at all. But his thighs touch yours on the crowded mini bus and you feel like you've been electrocuted. 

"Do you like bats?” He says after about twenty minutes of silence. 

"Not really.” 

"Then why are you going?” He frowns. 

“Because it's a once in a lifetime thing and you don't know if you'll ever come back here again." 

He just nods and you go back to sitting in silence, though neither of you move your thighs away from each other. 

“Just a few more minutes!” 

Thank god for that. The almost 45 minute drive had felt like a decade of your life had been taken away from you. 

“So is it like a couple of thousand bats?" 

“You don't know?" 

“No," he looks confused, “why should I know?" 

“Well surely this is something you wanted to see. If not, why are you here? I doubt there's many suitors at a bat cave." 

“Suitors," he grins, “damn you're right grandma, there probably isn't." 

You fight off a smile. This is just him being his usual annoying self, he was bound to stumble on a funny comeback eventually. 

“There's two million bats." You shew him off the bus now you've finally parked up. 

“TWO MILLION?!" He spins round and bangs into you, he's so close to you that you can smell his minty breath. He brushed his teeth for the bats? "I-I mean I knew that. It's just when you actually hear it that it shocks you all over again.” 

"Ok?” You say slowly. 

Neither of you move. Has he always had such pretty eyes? You knew he had pretty lips, you'd thought about his pretty lips a lot. They usually came up as a suggestion after you'd searched for his big, strong, meaty……fuck you need to stop thinking about his arms. It's a gateway drug to fantasising about him like you used to before you knew he was a giant dickhead. 

“Come on lover birds! The bats won't wait for romance!" 

You both jump away from each other, both clearly embarrassed at what the driver has just said. 

“The bats," you point and set off for the cave, following the other bat fanatics. 

“Woah," Seungcheol says as he looks up at the mountain. "The caves at the top?” 

"Yeah, they fly out each night. Why are you here if you don't know this?” 

"I was talking to the girl at reception and she suggested it.” 

"Oh.” Of course it's to do with a girl.

Seungcheol cringes to himself, he didn't mean that. He just panicked and needed a plausible reason for why he's suddenly turned up here. Truthfully he's only here because he heard you telling Woozi about it. He thought it'd be a way to start afresh, to show you he's not what you think he is. Or he doesn't want to be like that anymore at least. But he's already fucked it up. 

“Not long now! It can look a bit daunting but it's such a sight to behold!" 

You quickly get your camera ready with all the other tourists. 

“Do you want me to take it?" 

“Why?" 

“Then you can see it with your own eyes?" 

Why is he being so nice? 

“O-ok. Thank you,” you take the camera strap off from over your head and hand him your camera, “it's just that button, I've already set it up before the mini bus came." 

“Cool." He nods as his fingers graze yours. 

“Yeah." 

“Here they come everyone!!" 

You both turn to face the cave just as the biggest swarm of something you've ever seen in your life leaves the cave. It's like a never ending line. You knew two million bats would be a lot but this is like something from another world. Like how the world looked before humans ruined it and animals could just do as they pleased. 

"Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself as you watch the bats in awe. 

Seungcheol isn't watching the bats. He doesn't give a fuck about the bats. He got the photo straight away and then a far better sight caught his eye. Your whole face lit up in wonder as you stared at the sky in astonishment. He doesn't even realise he's doing it, he just moves on autopilot and turns the camera to you. You're meant to savour the most beautiful views and in his opinion, the sight in front of him is one of the most stunning he's seen. 

"So they'll hunt now until 6am tomorrow morning! Unless you've all brought your tents, I'll give you some time to explore the area and then we'll meet back at the bus? Say in twenty minutes?" 

“Can I have that?" 

“Oh!" Seungcheol hands you your camera, “sorry, didn't realise I still had it." 

“Did you get the picture?" 

He panics. He can't let you see the photo he's taken of you. Not whilst he's still here anyway. 

“I did!" 

“Great," you take his word for it and put the camera back down against your chest now the strap is back round your neck. 

“What do we do now?" 

“I was just going to grab a coffee from the stall and take in the view.” You start walking, presuming he'll want to do his own thing. 

"Cool.” He follows you. 

Why is he following you? Surely he doesn't want to spend time with you? 

When he pays for your coffee before you can get your card out, you start to feel like something truly odd is going on. He hasn't said a bad word to you, other than the grandma comment, and he's being weirdly timid. 

"They should have souvenirs." You grumble more to yourself than Seungcheol as you wait for everyone to get back to the minibus. 

“Yeah you'd think they'd sell little bat toys." 

“Are you making fun of me?" You'd been waiting for this, you knew he couldn't last this long without being an ass. 

“No! My mom likes trinkets and shit, I like getting her something from everywhere we've been. It's normally just a magnet from the stadium or something. I don't really visit places when we have breaks.” 

"I can imagine.” You know what he's implying. You know how he spends his time normally. 

"I’m pleased we saw this. It's been cool.” You hate how your heart leaps when he says “we". He'd planned this because some girl told him to, he's probably only done it then he thinks he gets her as a reward. It's got nothing to do with you at all. 

“Hey you could always have a copy of the picture if you'd like, get a frame or something from the market and put it in there. Like a homemade souvenir." 

“I'd like that." His eyes find yours again and once again you can't look away. “She'd like it too." He smiles and you're certain your heart has fully stopped working.

He's never smiled at you. He's smirked, he's sent you his evil grin, but never the smile he normally reserves for everyone but you. 

“No problem." You smile back, trying to look anywhere but at him then you don't start giggling. 

You don't speak much on the way back to the hotel, he heads off to find Hoshi at the bar and you head back to your room. 

Once you're washed and ready for bed, you make sure you transfer the photos from your camera. One trip to Greece where you didn't back it up once and lost everything, was enough to make sure you never made that mistake again. 

Seungcheol only managed to take two photos but as long as there's one there, you can keep your promise to help him with the souvenir for his mom. 

You check them both, the first one is amazing, exactly the right shot to show what an insane sight it was to witness. But the second one stops you in your tracks. He took this? He took this of you? The setting sun illuminates your face better than any highlighter ever has and the look on your face……well in the words of Keira Knightly, “I look quite pretty.". 

Something about him taking that photo makes you almost giddy. But you shouldn't read into you, he's just taken it by mistake probably. You cannot let yourself think this means something. He's Seungcheol. He hates you. And you hate him. 

"Does that pool have a massive floaty in it?” 

“It's probably for kids." Woozi dismisses you. 

“But do we know if it's for kids?" 

“Why?" He smirks at you over his fruit. 

It's just a few of you this morning. The two couples have gone on a day trip and you don't really have plans until the night market you want to check out later. And the huge inflatable assault course is looking more than appealing. 

“I'm just asking." You shrug. 

“They've got a climbing wall you know, that you can jump off into the pool." Seungcheol adds in. 

“REALLY? I mean…….really?" You say a bit more quietly, your cheeks heating. 

"We should go on them. Jeonghan booked out this whole resort so there's no kids here or anything.”  

You didn't know that. That changes things a whole lot more. You won't have to swat children into the pool when they get in your way on the climbing wall. 

"Do we really have to do that? It's meant to be relaxing?” Jeonghan sighs, fanning himself in the largest sunglasses you've ever seen. 

"When else do you get a whole water bouncy castle for yourself?” Seungcheol adds in. 

Fuck you wish he'd go and sit at another table. 

It's not even because he's annoying for once. 

You've never seen someone eat papaya the way he's doing. He's fucking devouring it and you've been trying your best to not just sit and watch. It's bordering on obscene as he licks and eats half a papaya in front of you all and you try your best to focus on the inflatables and not clenching your thighs together. 

The rest of them don't seem to care but you can't help letting your mind wander. His tongue looks like it knows exactly what it's doing and the juice that trickles down his chin could only be improved if it was your juice dribbling down his chin. 

"I thought you were coming to the spa with me?” 

You drag your eyes away from Seungcheol eating out the papaya and will yourself to stop imagining how much you'd enjoy him eating you out. 

“Jeonghan, we might not come here again. It's an empty resort with a fucking sick pool and shit. You go to the spa," 

Did he? He can't have just said that because that would insinuate that he actually listened to you when you said the bat cave was a once in a lifetime opportunity. That you should make the most of things whilst you're here. 

“I'll come to the spa with you. They can act like children in the pool." Woozi pulls his newspaper down like a dad deciding his kids’ itineraries. 

“Great!" Hoshi grins at you all. 

“There's even this bubble pool apparently, I don't know what it does but there's a water slide with a trampoline in the pool." You excitedly tell Seungcheol, somehow not remembering he's your sworn mortal enemy. 

Hoshi, Jeonghan and Woozi share knowing looks when Seungcheol says how cool it sounds and for the first time, they see you having a normal conversation. 

“I'm going to go get changed," you finish your orange juice and rush from the table, “I'll be back! Don't bounce without me!!" 

“It's going well then?" 

“What is?" Seungcheol frowns as he finishes his breakfast. 

“That was almost pleasant," Woozi chimes. 

“She's just excited about the water trampoline thing. I've told you, I've lost any chance I had.” 

"Where did you go last night?” Jeonghan changes the subject. 

"Oh…….nowhere,” Seungcheol dismisses them. 

"He followed _____ to the bats. Grinning like a mad man when he found me in the bar and didn't even stare at the woman behind the bar's ass.” 

“Fuck me." Woozi puts down his paper looking shocked. 

“Shut up. I'm going to change." 

He struts off, mentally deciding which of his swim shorts might make you forget all of his past behaviour and jump into his waiting arms. 

"I'm going to be the best man when they get married.” 

"Soonyoung. You've said that about all three of them. You can't be the best man for all three. You'll all need to rotate it." 

“Whatever." 

Ten minutes later and you're rushing to the pool, nothing but a baggy t-shirt covering your bikini clad body, your sandals in your hands and your hair tied up in a high pony tail. You didn't even have time to question whether it'd be awkward to be around Seungcheol, you just wanted to have fun, to forget any worries you had before today and take advantage of the insane surroundings you find yourself in. 

You don't think twice, just rush to the pool, leave your phone on the pool chair, take your t-shirt off and do a pretty impressive, olympic level dive bomb into the pool. 

Sure you're having a great time. But did you have any concern for Seungcheol's poor nerves? He hadn't even had a chance to make it to the pool and let you know he's there, before you did some sort of Baywatch shit and whipped your clothes off. He doesn't know whether to be endeared by how excited you are at the prospect of inflatable assault courses or rush off to the bathroom before you spot him, to sort out the slight situation that’s stirring in his pants. 

“I'd sort that out dude before you speak to her." Soonyoung pats his shoulder as he struts towards the pool.

“I think you've just done that creeping up on people. Don't be fucking weird." He catches Soonyoung up. 

“_____! You could've waited!" Soonyoung jokes. 

“Sorry! Get it in Hoshi! The water is literally so perfect!" You paddle backwards and beam at them both. 

“I've told you, call me Soonyoung." 

“You've literally never said that to me." You giggle, making Seungcheol's heart flutter and he suddenly gets the urge to headbutt Soonyoung. 

“Well I am now. Once you've been on a trampoline in a pool together, you're friends for life." 

“Fair enough," you turn away and start swimming whilst you wait for them. 

“Sorry." 

“What for?" Seungcheol asks as he gets in the pool, opting for the steps instead of your dive bomb method. 

“You looked like you wanted to slap me when she giggled. I promise to only make her miserable from now on." 

“I think I've made that my job," Seungcheol watches as you check out the inflatable as you swim past it, “and it was a headbutt." 

You can't remember when you last laughed so much. You've done the assault course five times, climbed the climbing wall and thrown yourself into the pool more times than you can count and the trampoline was a revelation. 

"This isn't what I thought a bubble pool would be.” 

"What were you expecting?” 

"Well not one big bubble. I thought it'd be lots of little bubbles.” You look around with your hands on your hips as you stare at the water spraying out of the top of the large mountain you find yourself atop of. 

“That's a jacuzzi." Seungcheol dead pans. 

“Oh yeah," you chuckle. “Do we just throw ourselves off it?" 

“Well we've thrown ourselves off everything else." 

"Come on then,” 

"Hey _____?” He asks but you've just bent your legs to throw yourself down the huge bubble and sort of wobble onto your ass. "Be careful!” 

He grabs you but any worry he had disappears when you fall on him in a fit of laughter at the way you've nearly bounced down the bubble. 

"L-lucky this is bouncy,” you giggle as you sit up between his legs, his arms still around you. "Oh! Sorry!”

You try to move back but he keeps you there. 

"Wait. I wanted to say something to you if that's ok?" 

“Er…..sure?" You glance at his hands on your waist and he pulls them away instantly. 

“Ok so I don't know how to say this." He scratches his neck, looking more than a little nervous, “can we start again?" 

“We've not bounced off the bubble yet, we can't do it again if we've not done it." 

“Not the bubble," he frowns, “us. I-I mean can we drop whatever we had going on and start again? I'm not normally a complete asshole to people, I know I can be arrogant and shit but I'm not normally like this with staff or anyone in general. And…..I've really enjoyed spending time with you, I'd like to spend more time with you I think." 

You feel like someones just burst the fucking bubble you're so shocked. 

"But you hate me.” 

"I don't hate you. I know you hate me but…..” 

"I don't hate you.” You interrupt.

You both sit still for a while just gazing at each other, the water fountain at the top of the bubble landing just past you and making it seem like you two are in your own little bubble on top of the actual bubble. 

"Soooo you think we could start again?” 

You wait an appropriate amount of time because you don't want to come off as desperate and say it straight away. But you'd be lying if you said you're not absolutely thrilled by this little development. This whole day has been insanely fun and you've spent the entire time with Seungcheol, joking and talking about water parks you'd been to as kids. It felt natural, you seemed to have so much in common that you didn't realise and you'd barely even had the chance to drool over his abs and back because everything was so exciting. 

"I think so.” You nod, smiling from ear to ear but trying to keep it cool. 

"I'm sorry for how I acted.” 

"No I'm sorry, I was no better,”

"Yeah but….” 

"Seungcheol,” you saying his name shuts him up straight away, "we said we'd start again. Let's just agree we're sorry and move on.” 

"You're sure?" 

“Mm-mm," you hum. 

“Come on, Soonyoung will be wondering…..wait where is Soonyoung?" 

“I haven't seen him since the third time we did the assault course," you look out onto the nearby pool that is adjacent to your huge bubble. “Wait," you snort, “he's asleep on that pool chair." 

“Thank fuck we've not actually lost him, I didn't even realise he'd gone.” 

"Me neither,"

You're drawn to his eyes again, both of you perched on the bubble, you still sitting between his legs and the warm afternoon sun shining down on you. 

"Did you say at breakfast you were going to the night market?” Seungcheol asks when a bang in the distance breaks the moment yet amazingly doesn't wake Soonyoung.

He stands up and then helps you up. Although you'd very much like to stay between his legs for the rest of the day in all honesty. 

"Yeah, they have all sorts of local food vendors and things apparently and all of the seafood you can imagine. Mingyu said they were going and he knew I wanted to go too, so we're all going together. You should come.” 

Shit. Is that too forward? He said he wanted to start again, he didn't say he wanted to spend this whole break with you. Which so far is what's happened. 

"I love seafood.” 

"Is that a yes?” You squint at him, trying not to smile. 

"Yeah, I'd like to go with you….I-I mean with you all," 

“Great," you smile, “now. Are we ready to bounce?" 

“Well I'm not sure, do you bounce down it in little bounces or one big bounce?" You both stare down the huge bubbly lump as water lands on your heads. 

“I don't really know bubble pool etiquette. Let's just jump and see what happens?" You hold your hand out for his. 

He stares for a second and then takes your hand, your fingers intertwined and both of your hearts hammering in your throats. 

“Ready?" 

“Absolutely." He squeezes your hand. 

“You look nice." 

You glance behind you, presuming Seungcheol is talking to someone else. 

“Me?" You point to yourself, you're just in a little sundress and Birkenstocks. 

“Who else would I be talking to, I'm walking with you." 

“You could've been talking to Mingyu," you shrug. 

“I told him he looked nice before we left the resort." 

“He always struck me as needy." You joke, enjoying that smile again you hadn't really seen before yesterday. 

You're all walking to the night market, it isn't a particularly long walk and it seemed pointless to get a taxi. As you're with the two couples, you've ended up walking with Seungcheol at the back of the group. 

"I’m sorry about what that girl said to you.” 

Your body tenses as you stop walking. 

"What?” 

"I'm sorry about what she said to you. I should've said something in the elevator, it was cruel and entirely uncalled for. I think you looked really good, better than good, sex….. really great!” 

"You don't have to apologise for your one night stands.” You start walking, not really wanting to talk about one of his many women. 

"I didn't sleep with her!” 

You all stop walking now, you're certain he didn't mean to say it that loud but to their credit, the others all keep walking and ignore what they just heard. 

“You didn't?" 

“No. I told her to leave before we got out of the elevator." 

Something about that makes you hope a little more than you had been doing. You can't be certain he didn't sleep with her because of you but it certainly seems that way. 

"Thanks for telling me? I guess," 

“I just wanted you to know, not that you should care if I think you look good. But you were upset and I wanted you to know," 

“Thank you," you walk a little closer, your arms occasionally brushing as you navigate the tiny streets to the night market. 

The night market, when you get to it, is packed. Somehow you'd manage to forget you're with the world's biggest rock band but now every so often, people do a double take. To their credit they keep their distance and leave you all to enjoy yourselves but more than once you see women checking Seungcheol out. They're probably looking at the Dino and Mingyu too but you couldn't give a fuck about that. 

Every one of these women is the enemy. Every one of them could end between the legs you were between a couple of hours ago. Fuck what the hell is wrong with you? He asked to start fresh and not take chunks out of each other, that's it, nothing more. You don't have a claim over him. 

“What do you want to try first?" 

“Oh well….." 

“SHRIMP!" Mingyu marches off. 

“What happened to democracy?" His girlfriend watches him disappear. 

“I could eat shrimp." 

“Me too!"

“Cheol you don't like…..” 

"I love shrimp! Come on before he eats it all.” 

You wander off after him, feeling a thrill when you note he's waited for you before he followed Mingyu. He didn't wait for the others, just you. Jesus get a grip woman!

"He's so embarrassing when he's down bad.” Dino laughs. 

"What would you class as down bad Chan? Stealing hotel room service carts?” Mingyu's girlfriend snickers as she walks off. 

"I didn't steal them!” He corrects her. 

"They know you didn't baby,” his girlfriend soothes, "but you did pay someone so you could use it, so it is possibly worse.” 

"It worked didn't it!” 

"And sadly I think that makes me as weird as you.” 

"Oh my god, that's insane,” you stare at the dish in front of you. 

"It's good right! We had it last time we were in Thailand,” 

You're sharing mango sticky rice with Seungcheol having stuffed your face with so much seafood you're surprised you could then fit in the massaman curry or the pad kra pao. 

"I can't believe they're sold out of rice balls, they're like sweet they're so fucking good.” 

You've had a drink and you're so full of food that all you've really focused on in that sentence are sweet and balls. Fuck what you wouldn't give to suck on…….

“______?" You snap your eyes to him, “did you want to try the mangosteen?" 

"Oh! No, I think I'll stick with my sticky balls…..I-I mean your sticky balls…..I MEAN the mango sticky rice.” 

You don't look at him, just stick your spoon in the rice and shove a load in your mouth, hoping he'll forget your little slip up. 

"_____, there's some stalls over there and these boring fucks don't want to come with me. Will you?” 

"Fucking rude,” 

"Don't be brat Mingyu.” His girlfriend reprimands him. 

His ears go pink but you're certain Mingyu likes being told off, he keeps going out of his way to piss her off like he's banking on something when they get back to the resort. 

“I'll come with you!" You smile, you did want to check out the souvenirs and local crafts. 

“I knew you wouldn't let me down." 

You both walk through the stalls taking in all the handmade crafts and little sweet treats but there's one specific thing you're looking for. You talk each other into buying things that remind you of the trip and out of shit you'd never use. Giggle about little things the guys have done and joke that Chan’s girlfriend will be going insane stuck with the three of them. And that's when you spot it, what you've been looking for, whilst you're in a huge queue for a necklace for Mingyu. 

“Hey I'll be back in a sec, I just want to buy something." 

“Sure, it's not like I'm moving very fast," 

“How much for the photo frame?" You ask the old lady on the stall that caught your eye.  

"2000.” 

Shit. You know that's not really that much, they just use large numbers in baht but it is still a little more than you were expecting. 

“1800?" 

“2100." You frown at the woman. What a crafty business woman you've stumbled on. 

“1900?" 

“2000." 

Well. You've got her down from 2100 you suppose. 

“Deal." 

She doesn't offer to wrap it, just shoves the simple bamboo frame in a plastic bag which you're certain has been used one hundred times already and launches it at you. 

“Thanks then." You glare at her. 

You stop in your tracks as you turn round to head back to the queue. That same feeling of wanting to scratch someone's eyes out rearing its ugly head because it's him. Seungcheol. With a woman in his arms just by the table you were all just sitting at. 

Why did you think it meant something more than just not being awful to each other? Of course he doesn't like you, he just told you that you looked nice because he felt bad about the other night. He doesn't want you, he doesn't think about you that way, you can tell that much by the way his hands are on the woman's waist, much like they were on yours earlier. 

Embarrassment floods you again, a feeling pretty similar to how you felt in the elevator but this time it's entirely your own fault. You're the idiot that got your hopes up. You're the idiot that had started to wonder if there was something there. You're the idiot who more or less told him you wanted to suck his balls. Christ you want the ground to swallow you up. He must be regretting ever offering to call a truce. He’ll probably have Woozi fire you for sexual harassment. 

You can't face him. You won't. 

“I'm going to head back," you rush once you're back at the queue. 

“Why? Is everything ok?" 

“Yeah, just feeling a bit sick. A few too many shrimp I think, or too much spicy food." 

“I'll get one of the guys to walk you back! Just let me get this necklace." 

“No, it's fine. Seriously, it's totally ok. I'm just going to get a taxi and head to bed." 

“Are you sure?" She asks, nothing but concern in her voice. 

“Yeah, probably shouldn't have done all that jumping off water bubbles before all that food!" You joke as you walk off, though it's entirely fake. 

"Message me when you're back at the hotel!” She calls after you but you just give her a thumbs up and rush to find a taxi. 

Maybe you could book a flight and be gone by the morning. Anything is better than dealing with the horrifying amount of feelings currently weighing you down.

Seungcheol is pissed. In every sense of the world. 

You left. You just upped and left and didn't even bother saying goodbye. He believed the whole "she's not feeling well and she's just going to bed” bullshit when he was only six beers into the evening. But now he's considerably past that and he doesn't believe a single word of it. You'd come and tell everyone surely, you wouldn't just leave. 

He wanted to woo you. He wanted to make sure you knew he was sorry. He wanted to tell you that he loved you more than anything and everything in this world. 

Well. 

Maybe not that last one but he definitely does like you. He was sure of that on the big bubble. The fact he only looked at your tits bouncing on the bubble once only proved that point further. He's down bad and you've just sauntered off into the sunset with his heart in your evil hold. 

So he's decided he's going to tell you. Just as soon as he gets back to his room and throws up. He's going to put you in your place and tell you just what you're missing out on. He's Choi Seungcheol for fucks sake, women throw their panties at him at every concert. He won't be ignored by a woman who’s lured him in with her bouncing bubble and then dropped him like he was shit on her shoe. 

He'd hammered on Woozi's door, demanding he give Seungcheol your number. Woozi didn't question it, he doesn't want to get involved in whatever the hell is happening and the sooner he could get back to bed, the better. 

So Seungcheol lies on his bed, his phone to his ear and ready to give you a piece of his mind. 

You don't answer though. 

Who doesn't answer the phone at 4am?! He could be dying. He could be already dead. Fuck, you really don't care about him at all do you? 

He hears the bleep ready to leave a message and suddenly he's lost all concept of what to say. 

“Hello? ______ it's me. It's Cheol. I mean Seungcheol. It's me, Choi Seungcheol of the band Shadow," this isn't fucking MTV, he cringes to himself, “I want a word with you young lady!!" Well now he just sounds like his dad. 

He hangs up. Starts anew on the beep. 

“Hello ______, it's me Seungcheol. You've…….you've…….b-broken my heart,” he sobs. 

And sobs. And sobs. Until eventually the phone falls from his hand and he somehow manages to hang up. 

Twenty minutes later and he's pissed again. 

He dials your number and waits for the beep. 

“You've got some nerve, you know that _____. You lure men in and then break their hearts! It's wicked! You harlot! You floosy! You crone! You….you……I'm gonna be sick again.” He hangs up and runs to the bathroom. 

Right, he stretches his neck and gears up to call again. 

He hears the beep and it's like his world stops on its axis. 

“I think I really liked you _____. Or like you. I don't know. You barged your way into my room that day and made a fool of me and ever since I've needed all of your attention," he burps down the phone, the beer still very much making itself known, “I know I'm a man whore. I know I'm arrogant. But I love my mom y’know? I love my parents. And I love my friends. And I give money to baby elephants, they need our help _____ and I'm doing my best for them I swear. I will save every last baby elephant if I can! They can all come stay at my place!" 

He holds back another sob at the thought of the tiny baby elephants. 

“But I can be better. That skirt looked so good on you and that elephant. What? No. Not the elephant, that woman had no right saying what she did. Such a fucking nice little leather skirt, I could really just……” his voice trails off as he thinks about how pretty the skirt would look around your waist with the added feature of his head between your thighs. 

"But you don't like me. Not how I like you. I've been too mean. But in my defense,” he leans to the side, "argh! Sorry! Nearly fell off the bed. In my defense you were too. You called me disgusting and my tummy felt all weird. Feels weird now to be honest…..” 

He hangs up again and rushes off to be sick. 

Comes back and waits for the beep. 

"It's me again. Seungcheol. You know how I know I like you? I don't even like shrimp," he burps again and grimaces at the idea of eating shrimp. “And some girl fell on me earlier and I didn't even want to fuck her. Just made sure she was ok and sent her on her way. I don't think she really fell," he whispers down the phone, like he's telling you a secret, “I think she wanted me. But I just want you. But I can't have you. And I respect that. So this is goodbye. Please try not to cry. But together we could fly?" He knits his brows together, is that a song or does he just rhyme when he's sad? “Bye then." 

He's ready to call it a night but then why should he? If you're saying no he's going to make damn sure he's done everything he can. He pulls up his notes app and dials your number again. 

"It's me.” He says sternly. "I did research, you know?! That's how desperate I've been this past few weeks. Now these are the best the internet has to offer, so if you still say no after all these, it's you that's the problem.” 

He coughs to clear his throat, holding his phone like a Shakespearean actor about to make his debut at The Globe, and starts reading. 

"Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written allllll over you. Errrrr oh! Somebody calls the cops! Because it HAS GOT to be illegal to look that good," he's silent whilst he thinks about what he's just said. “That's what I should've said to her. Then you wouldn't have decided to hate me more than anyone in this world." 

He hangs up the phone and sobs again, remembering how sad you looked as you left the elevator. 

He dials and waits for the beep. 

“I'm back, sorry I got a little sad because the girl I Iike left the elevator looking like a sad puppy. Back to my list," he gets himself comfortable with his notes app open, “have you ever been in a car accident? Because I'd like to rear end you!" He throws his head back laughing, “I like that one. It'd work on me I think. But you could read me the obituary and it would work on me," he stares at the wall before he remembers his mission, “ARE YOU A BIRD ENTHUSIAST? Because you look like you've seen a cock or two!” 

He looks in horror at his phone before hangs up and throws it to the end of his bed. 

"What have you done Seungcheol?!” He paces around the room with his head in his hands, "ring her back. Find a nice one and ring her back. She'll like that.” 

He rushes for his phone and dials your number again. He knows just the thing to rectify this. 

"_____?” He says softly. "I didn't mean that one. I've got one I do mean." He takes a deep breath, “they say you are what you eat and I’d like to be you?” He mumbles, "NO that isn't it. Wait! Just wait one second!” He thumbs the screen and finds the actual line he wanted, "Ok, I got it," he takes a deep breath, “I'm lost, can you give me directions to your heart?"

He sniffles, tears falling down his cheeks and silently hangs up the phone. He won't be able to sleep, he knows he won't. So he opts for a shower and makes himself a coffee to sober up a bit. 

What a fucking mess. He just hopes you don't quit because of him. Everyone loves you, Woozi would be lost without you and, even if he can't have you, he can't not see you. That would ruin him. 

You woke up a little before six, not that you'd really been asleep that long. When you got back to your room you tried your best but sleep just wouldn't come. 

The sun was bright and the blue skies looked more than inviting as you reached over to check your phone. You didn't think much of the amount of messages. There was a time difference and you were always getting calls from different people for Woozi. Though he'd told you to leave getting back to them until after your little break, unless it was really urgent. 

None of the messages you've ever had before in your life though have ever sent you on the emotional rollercoaster that the ones this morning did. 

You listened to them all. Three times in fact. Your smile growing each time you listened now you knew how they ended. 

What you saw last night wasn't what you thought was happening. You just presumed it was because it's him, flirting with women is what he does. 

And the pickup lines, though cheesy, boarding on offensive at times, only made your smile wider. 

You needed to fix this, you needed to find him and one, check he doesn't have alcohol poisoning and two, tell him that you feel exactly the same way he does. 

The man at the reception desk wasn't thrilled when ran to the desk at 6:15 and demanded use of their printer. You're fairly certain he only agreed because you scared him a little bit. But he let you and you managed to print out the picture of the bats. It wasn't the best quality paper, you'd have preferred a proper photo paper option but it was the best you could do at short notice. 

So with the photo in the frame and the frame in a much nicer bag you'd managed to “borrow" from the giftshop when the man at reception wasn't looking, you headed to his room. 

Yes, it's early, but if you don't do this now, you never will.

This is like history repeating itself. You knocking on his door and him blatantly ignoring you. Thankfully there's no noise you'd rather not hear this time. But he's still ignoring you. 

Why did you think he'd answer? He's clearly pissed at you and he's clearly not been asleep for very long judging by the time on those messages. If anything, you've probably fucked him off more by hammering on his door.  

You take a deep breath and turn around. He isn't going to talk to you. You just need to deal with that. 

Deciding you need fresh air, you head to the beach. You hadn't been down there yet and by all accounts it was one of the most pristine golden beaches in the country. 

As you walk down the path to the beach, shoulders you recognise come into view. He's here? He's not going to throw himself in the ocean surely? You can't have driven him to that frame of mind. You'll never get over it and you probably won't have to. By the time Shadow fans hear about it, you'll be skinned alive. 

“Seungcheol?" You say quietly as you come to stand by him. 

His head whips up to you and the sight of him wiping tears from his eyes breaks your heart. 

“What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Why are you awake?" 

“I could say the same to you." You smile softly, “it's barely been two hours since your phone calls." 

“I haven't been to bed yet," he sniffs and looks back at the ocean, “just showered and came here. I needed to clear my head." 

You just hum and follow his eyes to the ocean. 

“Can I sit with you?" 

“I can't really stop you." He shrugs, still looking at the gentle waves.

"You can tell me not to.” 

You wait for a moment but he doesn't say anything and so you take that as you sign to sit next to him. 

“I lied." 

“What?" He looks at you confused. 

“I lied." You sigh. “I didn't feel ill. Well, I sort of did. I'd just bought you something from one of the little stalls and I looked up and you had that girl in your arms. I just saw red, every woman I've ever seen you with has made me see red. Though it's only these past few days I've admitted that to myself.” 

"But why?” 

"Because I like you. And I thought you liked me, I thought this truce was your way of starting something with me. And so when I looked up and saw what I did, I just felt so stupid. And I'd had a drink and said that about the balls, I couldn't face you. Or her.” 

"She fell……..” 

"I know, I listened to the messages.” you stop him. 

"All of them?” He winces. 

"All of them.” You smile. 

“I’ve liked you for weeks." He draws absent mindedly in the sand but seeing no reason to not be honest, “I just didn't know I did. This back and forth we had going on that first day, it became routine. I wanted your attention, I wanted to be around you all the time. But I've never felt like that. I've never felt like this. And so I thought I don't need to figure out my feelings as long as I can still be near you and we could still argue. My head has been so messed up, I've never had these feelings before. I haven't even fucked anyone since that time we met." 

“You still don't know her name," you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I do!! It's….well it's……..I don't actually remember her name because the only woman I care about is you.” 

"Nice save,” you grin even though your heart is doing somersaults. 

"Thanks,” he smiles sadly. "And then I decide fuck it, nothing is ever going to happen, and I pounched on the first poor woman I saw.” 

"The one in the elevator?” 

"Hm-mm,” his eyes darken, "and then I let her do what she did and I hated myself. I knew I'd gone too far, I knew I finally had to do something. And so I do and then….” 

"And then I ruin it.” You finish his sentence. 

"Well I was going to say the girl who pretended to fall.” 

"It was me. We both know it.” 

Silence descends, the sound of waves rippling onto the shore being the only thing that breaks it. It isn't tense or filled with hatred, it's a weirdly content silence.

"I got you something.” 

He just looks at you, obviously not really knowing what to say. 

"Well it's more for your mom.” You hand him the bag. 

"Can I open it then? Or should I wait?” 

"No, open it, please. There's a note in there too, but that's for you not your mom.” 

He frowns a little, not really sure why you've put a note in when you're talking to him, but he opens it anyway. 

The frame is first, his eyes softening when he pulls it out of the bag and sees that you've kept your promise on helping him with a souvenir for his mom. 

"She'll love it,” he beams at the photo. 

"I really liked the photo you took. I really liked both of the photos you took." 

His bright eyes find yours and you're relieved to see that the tears that fall now aren't quite as sad as the ones that fell when you arrived. 

“I read you should always take photos of the beautiful things, to remember them. So that's what I did." 

Your whole heart feels like it might explode. You're not worried about feeling like an idiot anymore. You've made big enough idiots of yourselves. All you feel now is thankful that you decided to get some air, that you found him here and now you hear words like that coming from his perfect lips. 

"There's a note in there too,” 

Seungcheol takes it out and as his cheeks turn pink, the most glorious laugh you've ever heard echoes around the empty beach. 

Seungcheol, 

I was wondering if you had an extra heart? Mine was just stolen. 

“That," he laughs, wiping his cheeks, “is far cheesier than any of mine." 

“Maybe," you giggle, “but at least it's not offensive." You try to speak very seriously. 

"I really didn't mean the cock or two one,” 

"Oh but you did mean the one about rear ending and that you are what you eat?” You challenge. 

"I mean, that depends.” 

"On what?” 

"On whether you'll be my girlfriend?” He says awkwardly, "I've never done it before. A relationship I mean and I can't promise I'll be great at it. But all I know is I want to be near you, I want to be the one who makes you smile. If you'll let me.” 

You search his eyes, they're different from the ones that looked back at you when he first opened his hotel room door. Just as beautiful but now there's something more in them, an honesty that tells you he's telling the truth. And that he does care and he does want to try this with you. 

“I don't use my best pickup lines on just anyone you know," you say as loftily as you can, “I only keep those for the men I want to be my boyfriend." 

His whole face brightens, any little worries he had that you'd still say no evaporating on the spot. 

“Can I kiss you?" He edges closer, looking at your lips. 

“That depends." 

“On what?" he frowns. 

“Please tell me you brushed your teeth after you showered. For one of those messages you hadn't actually put the phone down properly until after you'd been sick. The breath must've been….." 

“Hey," he takes your cheek in his hand and shuts you up, “I'm not an animal," 

“I was just checking," you mumble, transfixed by his lips and the way your cheek seems to fit perfectly in his hand. 

“You're so annoying." He whispers, so close to your lips that you can taste his minty breath. 

His lips touch yours for the first time in the softest kiss you've ever received. It's barely there and yet the weight of the meaning behind it fills your heart. 

It's like that first touch was a test, to check you wanted this and didn't run away from him. Because he pulls back for a second, stares down at your lips and closes the space between you again. One hand on your waist and the other still cupping your cheek but this time it’s frantic. Like he wants to make sure that this kiss makes up for those weeks of fighting and trying to hurt each other. 

He pushes you back onto the sand and takes your gasp in shock as the perfect opportunity to let his tongue dance with yours. His hand that was on your cheek now rests just beside your head on the sand, the big arms you admired for so long caging you in. You've wanted to feel them for so long, so you don't think twice. Your hands grip his biceps as the kiss turns sloppy. Both of you wanting to show the other his serious you, how much you both want this. 

It's only when you moan at the feel of his hardening dick through his shorts that Seungcheol seems to snap out of his need to swallow all of your gasps. 

“We should stop." He says softly, though doesn't pull away. 

“Why? There's nobody here." 

“I don't want to, you know, have sex. I want to do this properly, not that I really know what properly is. But I want to take you out, make sure you know I'm serious." 

“I know you're serious," you point out, gazing up at him and moving his hair off his face, “but I get it. I don't want to have sex yet either. But I don't see any reason we can't carry on the kissing." 

"Is that right?” 

"Hm-mm. But could we do it somewhere else? I'm sure a tiny crab just crawled up my shorts.”

"Oh shit!” He helps you to your feet as you stomp around trying to excavate the crab before it reaches your ass. 

"Get out, get out, get out!” You flap until eventually you see a tiny crab fall from your shorts. "Oh thank fuck for that!” 

“Better?" 

“Much. Imagine having to tell the guys your girlfriend's got crabs." 

“Oh god," he groans as he pulls a cackling you towards him and holds you close, “that's a fucking terrible joke." 

“Well you need to laugh! It's what boyfriends do!" 

“Why do I feel like that's going to be said a lot to make me do things I don't want to do." 

“Because it is," you kiss him, “and I do have something I want you to do." 

“Oh yeah?" He smirks. 

“Not that? Although we do need to talk about the way you ate out that papaya, it was like something off pornhub." 

“Why are you watching pornhub?" He grins. 

“I’m not, I only consume ethical pornogrpahy." 

“You read Game of Thrones smut." 

“I do n…how do you know that?!” 

"I read it over your shoulder once.” 

"What a pervert!” 

"I'm not the one reading Stark smut!” 

"Well that's only because I don't sleep with people who I don't even know the name of!” 

"Are you slut shaming me?” 

"Yes!” 

"Well,” he huffs, "my own girlfriend,” your heart flutters at the word, "betraying me. Lucky I've only got eyes for one woman now.” 

"Is she hot?” 

"The hottest.” He smirks. "Come on, let's get breakfast. You can watch me eat papaya and tell me all the dirty things you want me to do to it.” He grins as he pulls you along, not forgetting the bag with his mom's photo and the note he'll treasure forever. 

"What did you want me to do then?” 

"That bag,” you walk hand in hand off the beach and back towards the outside tables of the restaurant, "I technically stole it?” 

He stops and looks at you in horror. 

"It wasn't my fault! The old lady, who by the way is a terrifyingly good business woman, put it in a bag which I'm certain was first used in the eighties! And the shop wasn't technically open and I couldn’t not put it in a bag. So I stole it? Well, I borrowed it. If I give you the money, could you give it to them please?" 

“It's one bag. It barely costs anything. Just leave it." 

“No! Please! I'll do whatever you want.” 

"Whatever I want?” He quirks his brow at you and you feel your heart and pussy tingle. 

"Within reason.” 

"I'll do it,” you both set off walking again, "so long as you wear that leather skirt again on our first date.” 

"Deal.” You grin, kissing his cheek and happily gliding towards the hotel. 

"I've got plans for that leather skirt.” 

"I know you do. You didn't say it in your head about the added feature you'd like to make, you said it out loud. I heard it all. Lucky for you, I've thought a lot about where I'd like your head.” 

He drops your hands and watches open mouthed as you keep walking towards the hotel, making an extra effort to sway your hips. 

“Well come on then! I thought you'd promised me a show!" 

“Fucking hell." He whispers, almost in awe. 

“I think they're actually being more competitive now." Soonyoung complains as he looks over his sunglasses. 

“You'd think they'd be nicer to each other, ______ just nearly took him out with that inflatable ball." 

They're all watching in horror as you and Seungcheol take on the inflatable assault course again in the pool. 

“I don't think you'll need to worry about being the best man at the wedding Soonyoung. They'll have killed each other before then," they all wince and sit back in their seats as they see you hit the deck and land on your ass because of Seungcheol. 

"Please, can we all agree that we will never play board games or computer games with them.” Mingyu jumps as you dive into the pool with a shriek, "I think they'd both cause serious bodily harm if they lost monopoly. 

“Imagine Mario Kart." 

“Blood bath." Woozi and Jeonghan speak in unison, shaking their heads. 

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE! DO THEY HAVE TO KEEP DOING THAT?! MY EYES!” 

"It's ok honey, I'll tell you when it's stopped,” Mingyu's girlfriend covers his eyes as she looks fondly at you and Seungcheol in the pool. 

She's never wrong about these things, she told them all that. 

And from the way you're currently so lost in each other, you're more or less dry humping in the pool as you steal each other's oxygen. She's still got that winning streak. 

She knew one day someone would come along who would drag Seungcheol out of his predictable rock star ways. She just thanks the universe that it's you. Someone who's come to mean so much to all of them, but everything to Seungcheol.

🏷️ @rutheaflowers @bramos91 @fzenn @blueyedqtpie1186 @coupsv @vwintershire @toohyperactiveforyou12 @cheolwoo @jaja-salute @sejeonggggg @epelletart @wonwooslefttiddie @fwairychlo3 @joongtime @4kwp @ninigyuuu @sami4jeonghani @ashlinxloves @cardi-bre91 @adoreuzi

"That’s the problem, isn't it?" Minghao’s voice was like ice, slicing through the heavy atmosphere. He was still standing to the left of the chair Y/N had just vacated, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "We don't think. We climb the charts, we sell out stadiums, we celebrate our 'perfect machine,' and we completely forget that the fourteenth gear is being stripped raw just to keep the rest of us turning."

"Hao, that’s enough," Jeonghan said quietly from the kitchen counter. But his voice lacked its usual authority. His hands were gripping the marble edge so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked toward the hallway where Y/N’s door had closed, his heart aching with the memory of her limp arms in his embrace just hours earlier. "We all failed. Every single one of us."

Jihoon stood up abruptly. He didn't look at anyone. His face was a mask of absolute, pale shock. He walked toward the front door, his hand trembling as he reached for his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Hoshi asked from the floor, his voice raw.

"The studio," Jihoon whispered, his throat tight. "I need to... I have to look at the track files. I have to look at Shadow."

"It’s four in the morning, Jihoon," Joshua said softly, reaching out to catch his sleeve.

"I don't care if it's the middle of the night!" Jihoon shouted, slamming his hand against the wall. The sudden outburst made Seokmin flinch. Tears finally spilled over Jihoon's lashes, hot and furious. "I told her her lyrics were too dark. I told her they didn't fit our image. She was telling me she was dying in the dark, and I gave her a lecture on commercial branding! I have to open the files. I have to see what I threw away."

He ripped his arm away from Joshua's grip and let himself out of the apartment, the heavy front door slamming closed with a dull, echoing boom.

Inside the bedroom, the world had shrunk to the space between two heartbeats.

Wonwoo’s chest was warm against Y/N’s back, his long arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him until there was no air left between them. He hadn't stopped shaking. The quiet, unbothered rapper who usually watched the world through a detached lens was holding onto her like she was the only solid thing left in a collapsing universe.

"Oppa," Y/N whispered into the dark, her voice small and rough from hours of crying. "You should go out there. They need you."

"No," Wonwoo murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that only came when he was completely drained. He buried his face deeper into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. "I’ve spent six years standing out there with them while you stood back here alone. Tonight, I'm staying in the corner."

"They didn't mean to do it," she said softly, staring at the faint gray light beginning to trace the edges of the window blinds. It was a strange twist of the heart even now, with her contract resignation sitting on the table, her first instinct was to protect the boys from their own guilt. "Coups-hyung... he’s just trying to keep the group alive. The company puts so much pressure on him."

"Don't defend him, Y/N-ah," Wonwoo whispered, his grip tightening around her waist just a fraction, as if he were physically fighting the legal team she had tried to call. "He’s the leader, but he’s also your brother. If he’s too busy looking at the stadiums to see that his sister is disappearing in the wings, then he’s failing at both."

He shifted slightly, turning her around in his arms until she was facing him. In the weak dawn light, his sharp eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with a rare, desperate vulnerability.

"Minghao was right," Wonwoo said, his thumb coming up to trace the fragile line of her jaw. "If you do this... if Team 2 processes the paperwork, the company will make it ugly. They’ll structure the articles to protect the 'Seventeen' brand. They’ll say you left because of health reasons, or personality differences, or lack of dedication. The fans... some of them will be furious. Are you ready for that?"

Y/N looked into his eyes, her heart aching with the sheer weight of his worry. "I’ve spent six years being torn apart by solo stans for just existing in the line-up, Wonwoo. I’ve read the threads saying I’m the 'ugly variable' that ruins the dance formations. Do you really think an official exit article can hurt me more than sitting in that waiting room tonight while everyone looked right through me?"

Wonwoo closed his eyes, a sharp, ragged breath escaping his throat. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his fingers curling into the fabric of her black hoodie.

"Then let me come with you," he whispered.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What?"

"If you leave... let me terminate mine too," Wonwoo said, the words falling out of him with a terrifying, absolute certainty. "I don't want to stand on that stage if half my heart is sitting in a legal office in Samseong-dong. I don't want to sing the bridge if I’m looking at the space where you used to stand."

"Are you crazy?" Y/N’s voice finally rose, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, pushing him back just enough to see his face. "Wonwoo, no! You love the stage. You love the Carats. You went through the green basement you bled for this group!"

"I bled with you," he corrected fiercely, his eyes flashing with an intensity she had never seen in him before. "We built this together. If the system is so broken that it requires your erasure to function, then I don't want to be a part of the machine either."

A quiet knock on the door broke the heavy tension of the room.

Y/N and Wonwoo both turned their heads as the door pushed open a few inches. Minghao stood in the threshold. The morning light from the hallway hit his face, revealing the dark circles under his eyes. He didn't look angry anymore; he just looked incredibly old.

"Coups wants to talk to you," Minghao said quietly, his eyes lingering on Wonwoo’s defensive posture before moving to Y/N. "Not as the leader. He left his phone and his tablet on the kitchen counter. He just wants to speak to his sister."

Y/N looked at Wonwoo. He was staring at her with an unspoken plea, his hand still tight on her waist, silent text saying you don't have to go if you aren't ready.

But Y/N took a deep breath, the hollow clarity from the corridor returning to steady her nerves. "It's okay, oppa. I’ll go."

Slowly, she slid out of the bed, her joints popping in the quiet room. Wonwoo followed her closely, stepping into the hallway right behind her like a shadow that refused to leave her side.

The living room had changed. The remaining members were still there, but they had moved. Seungcheol was sitting alone on the floor in the center of the room, his back against the sofa, staring at the empty wooden chair Y/N had used earlier.

As Y/N walked in, the boys went entirely still. Seungkwan quickly wiped his face, trying to stop his sniffing, while Dino looked up from the corner with an expression of pure, childlike heartbreak.

Y/N didn't sit in the wooden chair. She walked over and sat directly on the floor, a few feet away from Seungcheol, crossing her legs. Wonwoo sat right behind her, his knees bracketing her hips, his chest an unyielding support against her spine.

Seungcheol slowly lifted his head. His eyes were completely red, the skin around them swollen from crying. He looked at her really looked at her for what felt like the first time in six months.

"I called the Vice President," Seungcheol said, his voice completely hoarse, barely carrying across the small space.

Y/N’s heart did a small, cold flip. Already?

"I told him that if Legal Team 2 answers a single call from your number," Seungcheol continued, his lower lip trembling as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own personal ID card the official leader pass that gave him access to every executive floor in the Pledis building, "I am stepping down as the general leader of Seventeen effective immediately. And I told him that if they try to release a single negative article about your departure, the thirteen of us will sit in the lobby and refuse to record the repackage album."

The room went entirely silent. Even Wonwoo’s grip on her shoulder went rigid.

"Cheol..." Y/N whispered, her eyes widening.

"I’m not trying to force you to stay, Y/N-ah," Seungcheol said, a fresh tear tracking down his pale cheek. He placed his leader card on the glass table, sliding it right next to her phone. "If staying here is killing you, I will personally drive you to the corporate office and help you sign the termination papers. I will protect you from the company, and I will protect you from the media. But I need you to know... I didn't see you because I was stupid. I thought because you didn't cry, you were okay. I thought because you always smiled, you were strong."

He leaned forward, his forehead coming down to touch the cool glass of the table between them, his voice breaking into a ragged, pathetic sob.

"Please don't leave thinking you didn't matter," the leader wept into the quiet room. "If you go... we will let you go because we love you. But we will never be whole again. The fourteenth seat is yours, Y/N. Even if it stays empty for the rest of our careers, nobody else is ever going to sit in it."

Y/N stared at the back of his head, her own tears finally spilling over, hot and heavy, dripping onto the fabric of her sweatpants. She looked around the circle at Minghao’s tight jaw, at Jeonghan’s closed eyes, at Wonwoo’s steady warmth behind her.

The legal papers were still waiting in the corporate office. The three-second bridge blocking was still locked for the music shows. The system hadn't magically changed in the middle of the night.

But as the morning sun finally broke through the living room windows, flooding the cramped apartment with a bright, golden warmth, Y/N realized one thing: The ghosthood was gone. They were looking at her, they were bleeding for her, and for the first time in six months... she was visible.

The golden morning light crept further across the living room floor, illuminating the raw, exhausted faces of the fourteen people who had spent their entire youth building a dream together.

Seungcheol remained with his forehead pressed against the glass table, his shoulders shaking with the quiet, devastating grief of a leader who had finally realized his own blindness. Next to his bowed head, his leader ID pass and Y/N’s locked phone sat side-by-side.

Y/N looked at the plastic card, then up at the brothers surrounding her. The initial, bitter anger that had fueled her walk down the corridor yesterday had faded, replaced by a profound, heavy sorrow. They weren't a perfect machine anymore. They were just thirteen broken boys realization-struck by the cost of their own success.

Slowly, Y/N slid forward, moving out of the protective bracket of Wonwoo’s knees. Wonwoo let his hands drop, but his eyes never left her as she closed the distance between herself and the leader.

She reached out, her small, trembling hand gently coming to rest on top of Seungcheol’s thick hair.

"Cheol," she whispered, reverting to the softer, more intimate honorific she used when they were trainees, long before he became Seungcheol or the General Leader. "Pick your head up. Please."

Seungcheol slowly lifted his face, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. He looked at her hand on his hair, then into her eyes, looking entirely lost.

"I don't want you to throw your career away for me," Y/N said softly, her voice thick with her own tears. "I don't want the thirteen of you to strike, or to sit in the lobby, or to break the circle because of me. If I leave... I want to leave because it's time for me to heal, not because I want to burn down everything you’ve all bled for."

"But we bled for it with you, Y/N-ah," Seungkwan choked out from the sofa, his voice muffled by a throw pillow. "If you leave like this, every trophy we win from now on is just going to feel like a reminder that we pushed you out to get it."

"You didn't push me out," Y/N murmured, looking back at Seungkwan, giving him a fragile, reassuring smile. "You just... you forgot to look back. And I forgot how to scream when I was drowning."

Minghao stepped forward from the edge of the kitchen, his posture finally relaxing from his rigid stance. He walked over and sat on the floor next to Y/N, pulling his legs up to his chest. His sharp eyes searched her face.

"The legal call," Minghao said quietly, his voice a calm anchor in the emotional room. "What do you want to do, Y/N-ah? Truly. No corporate pressure, no leader ultimatums. If you want to walk out that door, I will carry your bags. But if you are only leaving because you think you aren't wanted... look around this room."

Y/N looked.

She saw Hoshi, whose fierce, tiger-like intensity on stage was completely replaced by a crumpled, heartbroken expression. She saw Dokyeom gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles were white, silently praying. She felt Wonwoo’s steady, unyielding gaze from behind her, a silent promise that whatever she chose, he was still ready to walk out the door with her.

"I'm scared," Y/N confessed, the truth slipping out before she could stop it. Her fingers curled into her sweatpants. "I’m scared that if I stay, the next comeback will be exactly the same. I'm scared that I’ll be hidden behind Mingyu’s shoulders again, and I’ll have to sit on the edge of the bench, and I’ll have to listen to the directors say my voice doesn't fit the 'color' of the group."

"It won't be," a new voice spoke from the entryway.

Everyone turned. Jihoon was standing in the doorway, his jacket damp from the morning dew, his baseball cap gripped tightly in his hand. He looked completely drained, but his eyes were wide and burning with an absolute, fierce intensity. He had walked all the way back from the universe of his studio.

He walked into the center of the living room, ignoring the space between the members, and dropped a thick, printed stack of paper directly onto the coffee table.

Y/N looked down. It was the audio tracking sheets and lyric blocks for Shadow. But the margins were covered in fresh, chaotic black ink Jihoon’s unmistakable, frantic handwriting.

"I opened the files," Jihoon said, his voice trembling as he stared directly at Y/N. "I took out the verses we locked last week. I put yours back in. The whole song the intro, the first chorus, the outro it’s yours now, Y/N. It’s not 'too dark.' It’s the truth of what we’ve been putting you through, and it’s going to be the main promotional B-side for the repackage."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at the ink-stained papers. "Jihoon-oppa..."

"And I called the performance directors on my way back," Hoshi spoke up eagerly, crawling forward on his knees until he was right next to Seungcheol. "I told them we are scrapping the second-verse blocking for the title track. I don't care about the thirteen-member symmetry anymore. We’re moving Mingyu to the left wing during the bridge, and you’re standing dead center, Y/N. The camera isn't going to miss a single syllable."

Y/N sat in the center of their sudden, overwhelming desperation to fix what they had broken. It was everything she had wanted for the past six months every boundary she had begged them to cross, every tiny scrap of validation she had starved for.

But as she looked at Jihoon’s exhausted face and Hoshi’s frantic adjustments, she realized the most important change wasn't on the paper or in the choreography.

It was the fact that they were finally looking at her. The phantom thread hadn't snapped; they had grabbed onto it with both hands, terrifyingly aware of how close they had come to letting it slip away forever.

Slowly, Y/N reached across the glass table. She passed over the leader ID card, leaving it for Seungcheol. Instead, her fingers wrapped around her own phone. She unlocked the screen, pulled up the contact for Pledis Legal Team 2, and with a single, deliberate swipe of her thumb, she hit the delete button.

The room let out a collective, ragged breath, the tension snapping like a rubber band. Seungkwan buried his face back into the pillow, his sobs turning from grief to sheer, overwhelming relief.

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Wonwoo’s in the quiet dawn light. The deep, heavy sorrow in his eyes slowly melted into something soft, a quiet, profound gratitude that made his entire face relax for the first time in twenty-four hours. He reached forward, his long fingers gently catching the hem of her black sleeve, pulling her back just an inch toward him.

"I'm not signing the papers today," Y/N said softly, looking back at Seungcheol, whose eyes were wide with a sudden, cautious hope. "But I’m not practicing today either, hyung. I’m tired. I need to sleep. And I need to write."

"Anything you want," Seungcheol whispered, his voice cracking as he reached out and covered her hand with his own large, warm palm. "Sleep for a week. We’ll push the pre-recordings back. We’ll handle the company. Just... stay in the room, Y/N-ah."

"I'm here," she whispered back, the tears finally slowing down.

As the members slowly began to move, the rigid courtroom atmosphere dissolving back into the chaotic, protective warmth of their shared home, Y/N let herself lean completely back against Wonwoo’s chest. His arms wrapped around her waist immediately, holding her securely, no longer like a shield against a cruel world, but like a solid, permanent anchor.

The machine was still complicated, the industry was still harsh, and the road to healing the last six years of silent erosion was going to be long and painful. But as Wonwoo buried his face in her hair, his breathing finally steady and calm against her neck, Y/N closed her eyes.

She wasn't a ghost anymore. She was the fourteenth member of Seventeen, and for the first time since debut, the silence didn't hurt.

The collective exhale that had filled the room suddenly caught in thirteen throats.

Y/N’s hand remained resting on her phone, the screen showing that Pledis Legal Team 2 had indeed been deleted from her recent contacts. But her thumb wasn’t shaking anymore. The hollow, terrifying clarity that had carried her through the broadcasting station hadn’t vanished just because Jihoon had rewritten a lyric sheet or because Seungcheol had threatened a strike.

She looked at Seungcheol, whose hand was still covering hers, his eyes wide with a fragile, desperate relief that she was about to systematically dismantle.

"I deleted the contact," Y/N said, her voice dropping into a quiet, unyielding register that made the room go completely still again. "But I didn’t say I’m staying."

Seungcheol’s palm went rigid over hers. Behind her, Wonwoo’s arms tightened around her waist instinctively, his chest heaving with a sharp, sudden intake of breath.

"Y/N-ah..." Seungcheol’s voice was a ragged whisper, the hope draining from his face so fast it left him looking gray under the morning sun.

"I’m not going to call the lawyers today, and I’m not going to slip out the back door while you’re all asleep," she continued, looking around the circle of her brothers. "I owe you, and I owe Wonwoo, more than a sudden disappearance. But you can’t undo six months of drowning in twenty minutes, hyung. You can't rewrite the last six years of my life with one b-side track."

Jihoon stood frozen by the coffee table, his hand still resting on the ink-stained sheets of Shadow. The fierce, frantic energy that had driven him back from the studio evaporated, leaving him looking devastatingly small. "Y/N... I can change more than just Shadow. Whatever you want to write, whatever concept you feel fits you-"

"It's not a negotiation, Jihoon-oppa," she said softly, shifting her gaze to him. Her eyes were entirely sympathetic, but they were firm. "That’s exactly what I mean. Right now, you’re all reacting out of terror. You’re reacting because you looked down and realized the floor was cracking. But what happens in three months? What happens during the next world tour, when the schedules are packed, and the company is screaming about profit margins, and the formations have to be perfect again? Are you still going to see me then, or are you going to go back to the machine because it’s easier?"

No one answered. The brutal honesty of her words hung in the air, a mirror reflecting the relentless, corporate reality of their careers. They all knew how the industry worked. When the pressure cooker of a comeback cycle hit its peak, survival mode took over and in survival mode, routines became absolute.

"I need time," Y/N said, looking back at Seungcheol. "I’m going to finish this promotion cycle. I’ll stand in the center for the bridge, and I’ll sing the verses Jihoon wrote. I’ll give Carats the fourteen-member comeback they paid to see. But every single day of these promotions, I am still going to be thinking about leaving."

A quiet, choked sob broke from Seokmin's corner. He covered his face with his hands, his broad shoulders shaking violently. Beside him, Seungkwan looked up, his eyes rimmed with raw red, his lower lip trembling.

"So... it’s a countdown?" Seungkwan asked, his voice barely a squeak. "We’re just waiting for the day you decide to drop the pen?"

"It’s an evaluation," Minghao corrected from her side, his voice a calm, grounded shield against the rising panic in the room. He didn't look surprised by her words; if anything, a faint, proud look crossed his sharp features. He looked at the rest of the group. "She’s giving us a chance to prove that we’re actually a family, not just business partners who share a kitchen. If we can’t change our habits when the lights are bright, we don't deserve to keep her."

Seungcheol slowly slid his hand off hers, pulling his fingers back tightly against his chest. He looked at his leader ID card resting on the table. The authority it carried felt completely useless now. He couldn't command her to stay. He couldn't manage her out of her pain.

"Okay," Seungcheol whispered, a single, heavy tear dropping onto his sweatpants. He lifted his head, his expression shifting from a broken boy back into the protector, but this time, the protection was entirely for her. "Okay, Y/N-ah. That’s fair. It’s more than fair. We will earn it. Every single day, we will earn the right to have you stand next to us."

He stood up, his joints popping loudly in the quiet room. He looked at the rest of the members, his eyes hard and commanding. "No one pressures her. No one makes her feel guilty for checking out mentally when she needs to. If she wants to sit in the waiting room with her headphones on, you let her breathe. If she wants to go back to the dorm early, the managers will make it happen. We don't adjust her to fit Seventeen anymore. We adjust Seventeen to protect Y/N."

The boys nodded in unison, a solemn, quiet vow rippling through the semi-circle. Hoshi wiped his eyes fiercely with the back of his hand, leaning back against the wall, his jaw set.

Slowly, the heavy weight in the room began to fracture into movement. Joshua gently guided a still-crying Seungkwan toward the kitchen to get some water, while Dino and Chan quietly picked up the discarded jackets from the floor.

Wonwoo didn't move. He remained sitting right behind her, his chin resting gently on the top of her shoulder, his long arms still locked around her waist.

"You did good," he murmured against her ear, his deep voice vibrating right into her spine. "You held your ground."

Y/N let her head fall back against his shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering breath that felt like the first real pocket of oxygen she had claimed in months. "Are you disappointed, oppa? That I didn't just say I'd stay for you?"

Wonwoo let out a soft, dry chuckle that held no humor, only an immense, profound relief. He tightened his grip on her, burying his face in the fabric of her black hoodie.

"I told you in that storage room, Y/N-ah... I don't want a statistic, and I don't want a ghost," Wonwoo whispered into the dark of her hair. "If you stayed just because I begged you, you’d still be fading away inside. I want you whole. Even if being whole means you eventually walk out that door, I’d rather watch you leave on your own two feet than watch you disappear while standing right next to me. I’m here for the evaluation. I’m not letting go."

Y/N closed her eyes, her fingers interlocking with his over her stomach. The morning sun was fully up now, casting long, bright geometric shapes across the living room floor, burning away the shadows of the night. The countdown had officially begun, and the bridge beneath her was still fragile but for the first time in six months, she wasn't walking across it alone in the dark.

The next three weeks of promotions were unlike any schedule Seventeen had ever run.

To the public, the transition was flawless. When the repackage album dropped, Shadow debuted at number two on the charts, chased closely by the title track. The fans went wild over Y/N’s verses. For the first time, casual listeners and long-time Carats alike were flooded with vocal layers that weren’t just harmonies buried under Seokmin or Seungkwan they were raw, distinct, and hauntingly front-and-center.

But backstage, the atmospheric shift was staggering.

At the next music show pre-recording, the waiting room was a completely rewritten script. Y/N sat in her usual corner by the garment racks, her noise-canceling headphones pulled over her ears. Six weeks ago, this would have been an invisible boundary that kept her isolated. Tonight, it was a protected zone.

Mingyu had walked over twenty minutes ago, carrying a plate of sliced fruit. He hadn’t said a word to disrupt her space; he had simply set the plate on the small table next to her, tapped her shoulder to point at it with a warm, quiet smile, and walked back to join the others.

"Is she eating?" a voice murmured near the door.

Y/N pulled one side of her headphones down, her eyes tracking the whisper. Seungcheol was standing by the entrance, speaking to one of the main managers. His tablet was open, but his attention was entirely split.

"She took a few pieces," the manager replied quietly. "The performance coordinators want to know if she needs to skip the secondary blocking run-through. The stage floors are a bit slick today."

"Tell them she’s sitting out the dry rehearsal," Seungcheol said without a second of hesitation. His voice was firm, carrying that new, unyielding barrier he had built between Y/N and the corporate demands. "If they have an issue with the camera lines, tell them to adjust the tracking manually. We aren't running her ragged on a wet floor."

Y/N stared at the back of Seungcheol’s head. He didn't turn around to check if she was watching. He wasn't doing it to perform or to earn a quick smile from her; he was executing the vow he had made in the living room. He was managing the world so she didn't have to shrink herself to fit it.

"Line up! Entering the stage in three minutes!" the floor director bellowed through the corridor.

The members stood up, the rustle of heavy stage velvet filling the room. As they moved into the hallway, Hoshi stepped to the front, but he didn't immediately call for the chant. Instead, his sharp eyes scanned the line until they landed on Y/N.

"Spacing check," Hoshi said, his voice loud enough to clear the hallway chatter. "Verse two. Mingyu, remember your mark."

"I'm shifting three feet left the moment the lights hit the platform," Mingyu nodded instantly, his broad shoulders dropping back into a defensive lane that left the center lane completely unobstructed. "I've got the wing angle covered."

"Jihoon?" Hoshi tracked.

"Audio balance is locked," Jihoon said, stepping into line behind Y/N. He didn't push past her or give her a corporate lecture. He reached out, his small hand briefly catching the hem of her sleeve, giving it a light, grounding tug. "Sing it exactly like you did in the studio, Y/N-ah. The mic split is dead. Nobody is cutting your track."

The stage lights flooded the studio a minute later.

When the intro for Equilibrium hit, Y/N’s body moved with the same sharp, automated precision she had trained years for. But when the bridge arrived, the shift was physical.

As she stepped into the center, Mingyu cleared the lane with a sweeping, dramatic transition that felt almost protective. The main broadcast camera dipped low, locking onto her face as she delivered the vocal climax. For three seconds, she wasn't an extra or a transition pivot. She was the focal point of a thirteen-man engine that was deliberately turning around her.

From the front row of the audience, the fan chant rose like a wave—and for the first time in six years, her name didn't feel like an afterthought tucked into the end of the rhythm.

The evaluation continues

By 11:45 PM, the first van was quiet on the ride back to the dorms.

Y/N leaned her forehead against the cool window glass, watching the neon signs of the Han River blur past. Her phone lay flat on her lap. The notes app was open, but the digital graveyard of resignation letters had been replaced by a completely empty page. She hadn't written a single pro-or-con list in three weeks.

She felt a large, warm palm slide over her freezing fingers.

Wonwoo was sitting next to her, his thighs pressed tightly against hers in the cramped space, his reading glasses caught in the collar of his hoodie. He didn't look down at her phone screen. He didn't ask if she had made up her mind, or if the countdown was shrinking.

"Your voice sounded clear on the monitoring playback," Wonwoo said softly, his deep baritone a grounding weight against the hum of the van's engine. "The mixing team didn't drop your lower register this time."

"Jihoon-oppa stayed in the engineering room until four in the morning to make sure they didn't," Y/N whispered, her fingers curling slightly around Wonwoo’s thumb. "He didn't tell me, but Minghao saw his car in the lot."

Wonwoo let out a soft, low breath, his chest expanding against her shoulder. "They're trying, Y/N-ah. The whole house is trying."

"I know," she said.

She looked down at the empty note on her screen. The terrifying, heavy truth was still there the system was still massive, the industry was still clinical, and the scars of the past six years weren't going to vanish because of one good promotion cycle. She could still feel the phantom pull of that legal extension, the quiet allure of a life where she didn't have to fight for three seconds of air.

But as the van pulled into the dark basement garage of their dorm, she saw the door to the second van slide open. Seungkwan stepped out, immediately looking around the concrete space until his eyes locked onto her window, his face breaking into a small, tentative smile when he saw her wave back.

"Are you still thinking about it?" Wonwoo asked quietly, his grip on her hand tightening just a fraction as the engine cut out, leaving them in the dim, quiet luxury of the car.

Y/N turned her head, looking into his steady, intense eyes. There was no desperation in his face anymore just the unyielding, patient loyalty of a brother who was willing to wait at the edge of the line for as long as it took.

"Yes," Y/N whispered, her voice entirely honest. "I'm still thinking about it every day, oppa."

Wonwoo gave a single, slow nod, his thumb tracing the fragile skin of her wrist. He slid his fingers down, interlocking them with hers securely before reaching for the car door handle.

"Then we'll keep showing you the light tomorrow," Wonwoo murmured, pulling her gently out into the concrete garage where the other twelve were already waiting by the elevator, holding the door open for the fourteenth member to step in first. "Every single day until you decide to stay."

The final broadcast of the repackage promotions ended on a rainy Sunday night. The rest of the group had gone back to the main dorm in the first two vans, but Wonwoo had quietly spoken to their primary manager before the final stage. He didn't want the dorm tonight. He didn't want the kitchen table, the lingering, anxious glances of the other twelve, or the heavy, unspoken countdown that hung over the living room.

He had taken her keys, borrowed the manager's personal car, and driven her completely out of Seoul.

By 1:30 AM, they were parked at an abandoned, gravelly overlook near the old reservoir in Gapyeong a place they used to sneak away to during their brutal trainee days when the green basement felt like it was swallowing them alive. The rain pattered against the windshield in a steady, hypnotic rhythm, the dashboard clock throwing a faint, amber glow over Wonwoo’s face. He had taken off his stage makeup, stripped out of his performance velvet, and wore an oversized gray sweater that made him look like the boy she had met when she was thirteen years old.

He cut the engine, but he didn't pull his hands off the steering wheel. For a long time, he just stared out at the dark, rain-slicked water of the reservoir.

"You haven’t opened your notes app in three days," Wonwoo said, his deep baritone cutting through the quiet hum of the rain. It wasn't an accusation. His voice was thick, heavier than usual, carrying the exhaustion of a man who had been holding his breath for a month.

Y/N leaned her head back against the passenger seat, staring at his profile. "I didn't know you were tracking my screen time, oppa."

"I track everything about you, Y/N-ah," he murmured, his fingers finally dropping from the wheel. He shifted in his seat, turning his entire body to face her, drawing one leg up onto the cushion. He reached into the backseat, pulled out a thick, fleece blanket, and gently draped it over her lap, tucking the edges around her waist with a familiar, practiced care.

"I’ve been tracking you since 2015. And I think... I think I’ve been too quiet for too long. Everyone else has yelled. Coups threatened to strike, Jihoon spent eighty hours in the studio, Hao practically tore the storage room apart. But I haven’t really talked to you. Not about everything."

He let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders dropping. His sharp eyes, usually so guarded behind his glasses, were wide, watery, and intensely vulnerable under the dim dashboard light.

"I remember the day you entered Pledis," Wonwoo started, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, melancholic cadence. He was doing more than talking; he was opening a valve that had been sealed shut for six years. "You were thirteen. You had these giant, terrified eyes, and your knees were bruised from practicing the debut evaluations until two in the morning. Do you remember what the trainers told us the first week you arrived? They sat the thirteen of us down and said, 'She’s the wildcard. If she doesn't fit the image by next evaluation, we drop her and revert to the original line-up.' From day one, they treated your existence in our lives like a temporary trial."

Y/N swallowed hard, the memory hitting her like a cold wave. "I forgot they said that."

"I didn't," Wonwoo whispered, a heavy, emotional crack breaking through his tone. "I didn't forget because I spent that entire week watching you hide behind the water purifier so you wouldn't get in anyone's way. And do you remember what happened during the Adore U promotions? When the first hate threads came out? The fans were furious that a girl had been added to a boy group. They cropped you out of the fansite photos. They blurred your face in the music video edits."

He reached out, his long, cool fingers gently capturing her right hand from beneath the fleece blanket. He didn't hold it tightly; he just cradled her palm in his, his thumb tracing the small scar near her index finger a reminder of a broken stage prop from their first year on tour.

"Back then, I promised myself I would be your safe spot," Wonwoo said, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked down at their hands. "I told myself, "As long as Wonwoo is standing next to her, she won't feel the cold." When we did the vocal team switches, I always made sure our mics shared the same frequency block so I could hear you breathing during the live stages. When we had those awful, crowded corporate dinners where the executives would ignore you and talk over your head to Coups, I would deliberately drop my chopsticks or complain about the food just to pull the attention away from you. I thought I was protecting you, Y/N-ah. I thought my silence was a shield."

He paused, his chest heaving as a quiet, choked sound escaped his throat. He lifted his other hand, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face fiercely, trying to stem the pressure behind his eyes. When he looked back at her, a single tear had escaped, tracking down his cheekbone into the dark fabric of his collar.

"But I was wrong," he confessed, his voice trembling violently now, fully exposed to the raw weight of his own guilt. "My silence wasn't a shield. It was just another layer of the dark. I was so comfortable having you in my corner, so selfishly happy that I had a sister who understood the quiet parts of my soul, that I didn't see the erosion. I watched Jihoon take your melodies because the company wanted a more 'aggressive masculine bass line,' and I didn't fight him. I watched Soonyoung move you to the back wing during Don't Wanna Cry because the visual symmetry looked better with Mingyu in the center, and I just stood on my mark and let it happen. I let them turn my sister into a ghost because I was too cowardly to disrupt the peace of the group."

"Woo, stop," Y/N whispered, her own tears blurring her vision, her chest aching at the sheer amount of agony in his voice. "You didn't do those things. The company did. The directors did."

"No, I let them do it!" Wonwoo’s voice finally rose, a rare, heartbreaking burst of raw volume that echoed inside the small car. He grabbed her hand with both of his now, holding it against his chest, right over the frantic, heavy thudding of his heart.

"I am a senior member of this group. I am part of the foundation. If I had opened my mouth three years ago, if I had stood up during the production meetings and said, 'If Y/N isn't singing the second verse, I’m not singing the first,' we wouldn't be sitting in a dark car in Gapyeong while you decide whether or not to destroy your own contract."

He leaned forward, his forehead dropping onto their joined hands, his shoulders shaking as the dam finally burst completely. Jeon Wonwoo, who never cried in public, who had buried his own deepest personal griefs away from the cameras, was falling apart in her lap.

"When I saw Team 2 on your phone that night," he wept, his voice muffled against her skin, "it felt like my entire life was being rewritten as a failure. I spent six years thinking I was your anchor, but I was just the weight holding you underwater. The thought of walking into that rehearsal room... of looking at the tape on the floor where your feet are supposed to be it makes me feel like I’m suffocating, Y/N-ah. I don't care about the perfect all-kills. I don't care about the stadiums. If you leave this group because we starved you of light, then everything we’ve built is just a monument to our own selfishness."

He lifted his head slowly, his face soaked with tears, his expression completely broken open. He reached up, his long, trembling fingers gently cupping both sides of her face, his thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks with a desperate, frantic tenderness.

"I know you’re still thinking about it," Wonwoo whispered, his breath hot and ragged against her face. "I know every time you look at the schedule, you’re calculating how much strength you have left before you drop the pen. And I won't stop you if you need to go. If your soul cannot survive this machine, I will personally sign your exit papers as a witness. But please... please don't think you were an extra. Don't think you were a variable. You were the only reason the green basement didn't drive me crazy. You were the only person who saw me, not Seventeen's Wonwoo. If you leave, leave because you want a bigger world, Y/N-ah. Don't leave because you think we don't know the color of your eyes."

He fell silent then, his hands remaining on her cheeks, his forehead leaning forward until it rested gently against hers. The rain continued to smash against the glass, a chaotic wall of sound that shut out the rest of the universe, leaving the two of them entirely alone in the wreckage of six years of unspoken devotion.

It was a quiet evening, with nothing but the sound of the cars below the terrace passing by every several minutes. This time of night was your favorite, because it meant the noise of the world was off. Most people hated being alone with their thoughts, but it was the only way you could cope with the insomnia that usually took over your nights. Thinking, processing—working through whatever the day has given to you. 

You are hugging your knees against your chest, feeling the cold metal of the fire escape against your bare neck as you lean your head against the brick of your apartment building. There is a warm breeze passing through. Closing your eyes, you feel it fan your cheeks as you draw in a deep breath. 

Today wasn't much different than any other day, other than the fact that you received an invitation to a wedding you didn't want to attend. 

Which, fine, in hindsight, that made the day pretty shitty. 

It was one thing when your ex broke up with you, but for him to have the audacity to send you that invite just crushed you. You'd known he had moved on for a while, now. Seungcheol was never shy about showing off his significant others online, as you were once familiar with. When he began posting with his new girlfriend (Yuna, you think her name was), it was easy to deal with because he didn't live near you anymore. But then that pretty little envelope was stuffed into your mailbox today, and you weren't even sure why he felt inclined to send the invite. Did he feel bad for you? Was it some kind of pity invite, seeing as life hadn't been as kind to you since the breakup that it was to him?

When you open your eyes again, you hear a slight rattling coming from above you. Turning your head up, you notice your upstairs neighbor, Chwe Hansol, climbing out of his window. You'd never spoken to him much outside of a quick nod in the hallway, or typical "weather" small talk in the elevator. But you did know that he was a fellow insomniac. This had become an unspoken routine between the two of you: you'd climb out first, spend a few minutes alone. Hansol would follow suit, light a cigarette, and offer you one. Then you'd just...sit in silence. You were always the first to leave, the second that dawn started to break. Hansol always stayed a few minutes after you left before retreating to his own apartment. 

Your gaze turns back to the alley below, and you can hear the flicker of Hansol's lighter. When the smell of the smoke invades your senses, you hear him cough slightly. 

"You want a cigarette?" He asks hoarsely. He had either just woken up or been crying before joining you. You don't know him well enough to make a verdict, however. 

You push yourself to your feet and begin climbing up the stairs to the landing by his apartment. He passes you a cigarette, then quietly lights it.  When you press the butt to your lips, you sit. Your legs hang off the landing as you lean forward against the rail. 

"You look rough," Hansol observes aloud. 

You take a slow drag of the cigarette, then look over to him. "What happened to silence?"

"I don't want silence tonight." He answers. "Is that a problem?"

"I guess not." You shrug. The smoke curls out of your nostrils as you exhale and look ahead again. "Yeah, it was a rough day. What about you?"

"Same." Hansol presses his lips into a thin line. 

The silence returns, and in a way, you're thankful for it. It's not that you had anything against Hansol, but this was unfamiliar. Talking wasn't something the two of you ever did, so why now?

You take another drag of the cigarette, letting the breeze take the smoke away with it. After a few moments, Hansol sits next to you. His shoulder bumps yours momentarily before he quickly moves away. 

"What's your name?"

You laugh, flicking the ash off the end of your cigarette. It falls through the fire escape as you look over to him. 

"I know your name."  You comment. "All these months of living next to each other, and you never figured it out?"

"I guess I never paid attention before." He admits. 

Rolling your eyes, you give him your name. Hansol repeats it, like he's engraining it into his memory. 

"Pretty." He mutters. "It suits you."

You choose to ignore the compliment. "Hansol suits you. I guess, as much as I can assume."

"I guess," Hansol repeats as a smile creeps up onto his face. "You want to talk about your shitty day?"

The truth was, talking about it would be really nice. But you didn't know Hansol well enough to feel like you could dump your issues onto him. So you opt to keep things vague. At least for now. 

"I heard from someone today." You spoke slowly. "I, uh, haven't heard from them for a while. It kind of felt like a slap to the face, you know?"

He hums in agreement. "I get it. Did you say anything back?"

"It wasn't like that." You clarify. Sighing, you decide ‘fuck it’. "My ex is getting married. He sent me an invitation, and I don't know why."

That gets Hansol to look at you. His eyes are widened in amusement, and you almost want to wipe the dumb grin off his face. 

"Fuck," he laughs in disbelief. "What an ass. I'm sorry."

You shrug. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why was your day shitty?" You clarify. "You can't expect me to share and think you'll get away with not sharing as well. You're the one who wanted to talk."

"Right." He mutters. He reaches behind the two of you, grabbing the ashtray. You both put your cigarettes out, then turn your gazes back to the alleyway. "My girlfriend broke up with me. Work sucked, too. I guess the universe has it out for me right now."

"For both of us." You grunt. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about the breakup?"

"Not really." He says casually. It's like he's unaffected by it, which seems odd to you. You push the thought away, though. "It was a matter of time. We weren't good for each other. I guess I was expecting to do it before she did, though."

You scoff at that. "What, you got a bruised ego now?"

"So what if I do?" Hansol retorts. "Besides, it seems like you're not much better off. Your ex invited you to a wedding–one that isn't with you, by the way."

It's quiet for a second, and then you laugh. It catches Hansol by surprise, but you couldn't help it. It bubbles out of you before you have the chance to stop it.

"Fuck." You manage through your laughter. "What a bunch of losers we are, huh?"

That elicits a laugh from Hansol. "Well, she called me a scumbag, but loser works, too."

"They're interchangeable." You fire back as you look over to him. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had a shitty day."

"Yeah." Hansol sighs, meeting your gaze. "You too."

The two of you fell back into your normal routine after that night. A week passed without any conversation, but there was a shift in the air: like you both understood each other a little bit more, now. 

Meanwhile, the RSVP on your table remained. It is gradually approaching the date to send it back, and you aren't yet sure which path to take. The idea of asking Hansol his thoughts left as quickly as it came. You weren't sure if the conversation from last week warranted a pass to ask him for life advice–especially when it was about your ex. 

The rattling of a window pulls you from your thoughts. You glance at the clock on your stove.

6:43 pm.

He was early...eight hours early. Your feet begin to move before you can think twice about it. The window sticks a moment before you get it fully pushed up. You're greeted by Hansol walking down to your window, looking flustered and angry.

"Can I rant?" He asks, a bit winded from making the descent to your apartment. 

You blink a few times. "Sure."

Stepping to the side, Hansol hesitates before climbing into your apartment. As you close the window again, you catch him studying the inside of your home. You're suddenly very aware of the fact that you let a stranger into your living room, and begin to pace back to your kitchen table. Back to the invitation.

"Nice place." He comments. 

"Thanks." You mutter. You like to keep things minimal. The place consists mostly of white decor and furniture, with a few pops of color here and there. Everything is always kept clean, and clutter is always tucked away. 

Hansol clears his throat before collapsing onto your couch. "I'm sorry for just showing up. I don't really have any friends in the area anymore, and I just need to get this out of my system."

"Don't worry about it." You wave him off. "Do you want something to drink?"

He thinks for a moment. "What do you have?"

You pad into your kitchen, then open the rickety door on your fridge. It squeaks slightly as you peek inside. 

"I have sparkling water." You announce. "I also have soju and–"

"I'll take the soju." He quickly cuts in. Then adds, "please."

Grabbing two bottles, you kick the door closed again, then meander back towards him. He happily takes the drink from you as you sit on the opposite side of the couch. You both drink in silence, almost as if the two of you were allowing the space to be made before approaching the topic. When Hansol pulls the bottle away from his lips, you see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"My ex called me today." He finally says. "Not for any reason. Just to pick an argument."

"Over what, exactly?" You glance at him. He runs a hand through his hair, then takes another drink. 

"I still have some of her shit at my apartment." He explains, meeting your eyes. "I told her last week to come get it. When she ignored my texts about it, I stuffed it all into a garbage bag. I didn't want to look at it anymore, you know?"

You nod to let him know you're listening. He continues.

"Anyways, she finally came over about three hours ago to get it." His gaze shifts down to his lap. "She called me fifteen minutes ago to accuse me of throwing one of her stupid shirts away. Then, she went on a whole tangent about how I never took care of her things and how careless I am. She told me that my carelessness was what drove her away from me, and some other bullshit after that. She barely let me get a word in, and just hung up before I could say anything."

"Jesus." You grumble, taking a sip of your drink. 

"Yeah." Hansol scoffs. 

The silence returns, and this time, you're not sure if you should offer him anything else. He's sunken lower into your couch, like he's trying to be swallowed whole by the cushions. His expression is blank, and you're not entirely sure what to make of it or him right now. You take another swig of your soju, then set your half-empty bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Um, I know we don't really know each other," you lean back, looking over to him. His attention is still on his lap. "But I think it's good you're not in that relationship anymore. Not that it's my place to say, but you shouldn't be with someone who talks to you like that."

Hansol lifts his head towards you, then takes another drink as he holds eye contact. When he pulls the bottle away again, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. You're not sure you like the way he's looking at you. There’s something behind his eyes that you aren’t quite sure how to read. Shifting slightly, you decide to change the topic. 

"If it's any consolation, things aren't much better for me, either," you laugh bitterly. "I have to RSVP by the end of the week for my ex's wedding."

Hansol laughs. "You're considering going?"

"I don't know." You say softly. Your shift in tone causes his laughter to slow, as he realizes that the thought was actually weighing on you. You groan, then lean back against the cushions. "I just feel like he's expecting me not to be there. He knows that I've been dealt a shitty deck of cards since he left, but my pride wants to prove that things aren't as bad as they really are."

"So, what, you want to go pretend like things are okay?" Hansol questions. 

"Maybe?" You roll your head to look at him. He is already staring at you. "I don't know. I don't care if everyone else knows how bad things are, but I just want him to think they're good. Kind of like rubbing it in his face that I'm fine without him."

Hansol pauses. "You're not?" 

"Obviously not." You roll your eyes. 

Your voice catches slightly, so you will yourself to look up at the ceiling. You were not about to cry in front of a man you hardly knew. It's Hansol's turn to be quiet. The gears in his head were practically audible; you could tell he was trying to think of something to say. You didn't necessarily need advice, but talking about it helps. Even if you're not sharing the full story. 

"Would it help if you had someone go with you?" He finally asks. 

You hadn't thought about that. Even if you did, though, you didn't exactly have friends to ask. There was Jun, your cubicle neighbor. You've gotten coffee with him a few times, but never enough to call him a 'friend'. Aside from that, your best friend, Joshua, recently moved back to the States to be with his family. Between the two of them, you were pretty isolated.

"Maybe." You respond. "But, much like you, I don't really have anyone around here. I don't have anyone I could ask."

He shrugs. "I could go with you, if you want?"

It's your turn to laugh. You sit up, then shift your body so you're facing him. He quickly sits up in response. 

"As far as I know, you could be a serial killer." You quip, grabbing your soju again. 

"Please," Hansol scoffs, but there's hardly any bite to it. Instead, a coy smile is painted across his face. "If I were a serial killer, I would've killed you by now."

"Hm," you hum as the soju trickles down your throat. You swallow, then rest the bottle in your lap. "Not a coaxing type, huh?"

"Nah," he shakes his head. "I think I'd be right to the point about it. I mean, why coax if I'm just gonna kill you anyway?"

The smile that creeps its way onto your face is easy. If you'd known Hansol was this fun, maybe you would've taken the chance to talk to him sooner. Then again, maybe that was just the alcohol talking. You were starting to feel the slight buzz as you took another drink. 

"I mean it, though." He adds. "I know it's, ah, weird to go with someone you just met, but, I dunno, we could play it up, I think."

You press your brows together. "What do you mean?"

Hansol clears his throat, then shifts his body to face yours. "Well, you want to make it seem like you've got your shit together. Right?"

You nod. 

"So, if I go with, we could both clean up real nice," he explains. "I could pretend to be your new boyfriend for the weekend. It gets me away from my ex, and paints a pretty little picture for yours."

The words don't form right away. It wasn't exactly a bad idea, but would it even work? You haven't really been secretive about the fact that you've been a sinking ship for the past couple of years, but you've also never been one to post your relationships online–so it could work in that capacity. 

Would Seungcheol even buy it? 

As if Hansol is reading your thoughts, he leans in slightly. Your knees brush. "You're overthinking it. It'll be foolproof. I'm a great actor, you know?"

"In case you’ve forgotten, we just met." You deadpan. "Plus, don't you think it'll be, like, weird traveling with someone you don't know?"

"Only if you make it weird." He shrugs. "It's obviously your call."

You take a moment to absorb Hansol's appearance. Part of you was really questioning if he truly could clean up well–you'd only ever seen him wearing the same pair of ratted, grey sweatpants and matching hoodie. You were also pretty positive the beanie he tends to wear had never been replaced. Did he own any other clothes? Now that you really thought about it, what did he even do for work? Hobbies? Obviously, he's had at least one relationship before. If you decide to take him up on his offer, you guys would really have to get to know each other.

Because right now, you knew nothing. 

Finally, you ask, "What's your favorite color?"

He falters for a moment. "Why?"

"If you're supposed to be my fake boyfriend, I need to know you." You counter. "I don't know you, Hansol."

"Oh, right." He nods. He tosses the last of his soju back, then sets the bottle down on the table. "Um, well, I like all colors, truthfully. I guess I lean towards red and black the most."

You don't even realize you're making a face until he smiles in amusement. 

"What's wrong with those?" He argues. "What’s yours?"

"Pink." You answer quickly. "I like blue, too. But pink has always been my favorite."

"Pink." He repeats. "I could've guessed that."

"Oh yeah?" You quip. "On what grounds?"

Hansol kicks his legs up, making himself at home on your couch. Without hesitation, he stretches his legs across your lap, as if he'd done it a million times prior to this moment. You should be weirded out, but much to your own surprise, you don't mind it too much. You find yourself warming up to Hansol's easy personality as you finish off your own soju and set the bottle beside his. 

"You're always wearing something..." he trails off, folding his arms across his chest, "...pretty."

"Pretty?" You raise your eyebrows at him. 

His eyes widen momentarily. "No, not like that. I just mean, you're always wearing something so girly."

You hum. "I am a girl, you know."

"I know." He groans. "God, I just mean that your wardrobe is so frilly and bright. Do you even know how surprised I was when I found out you smoked?"

That was an argument you couldn't counter. He wasn't wrong: your wardrobe has always consisted primarily of dresses or skirts. God forbid a girl likes to dress nicely. Even your pajamas, which Hansol often found you in, were 'frilly', as he worded it. You like matching sets and very seldom wear mismatched clothes. Nighttime was no exception to that. Even now, sprawled across your couch, you were donning a tank top and pants set you had gotten from a small boutique a few weeks ago. 

"I'm a woman of many surprises." You wink as you kick your own legs up onto the coffee table. "I got into smoking back in high school. I guess I thought I could try a rebellious phase, but it didn't work. The nicotine addiction ended up staying, though. Seungcheol hated it."

"Seungchoel?" Hansol frowns. "Is that your ex?"

"Yeah." You sigh. "But you'll meet him later. You're not missing out on anything exciting, really."

Hansol perks up at that. "Later?" He asks. "So, we're doing this?"

You stare back at him, silently cursing yourself for the slip of tongue. But really, it couldn't be all that bad. Conversation seems to flow easily with him, and this trip could be a good opportunity to get the closure you fully need. Having company would be nice to handle any fallout that might happen afterward, too. 

What's the worst that could happen?

"What the hell?" You sigh. "Sure. You can be my date to this wedding."

Hansol bites back a smile. "Cool."

You were juggling a handful of groceries when you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You curse slightly before dropping everything onto your kitchen table, not even caring that your new bag of apples just fell onto the floor. You push the door shut with your hip, then pull your phone out.

Seungcheol.

He must've gotten the RSVP. Your breath hitches as you hold the device to your ear. "Um, hello?"

"Hey." He exhales, like he wasn't sure if you'd really answer. You couldn't blame him for that, though. You weren't even sure when you last spoke to him. An awkward silence fills the air between the two of you, as you try to debate whether you let him talk himself silly, or if you try to manage a conversation. He beats you to the decision. 

"Uh, Yuna and I got the RSVP!" He exclaims a little too loudly. "A plus one, huh? Is Joshua coming?"

"No, he moved back to California." You answer. "I'm bringing my boyfriend."

There's no response. You smirk in victory as you begin to clean up your groceries and put them away. There's a light tap on your window, where Hansol is waving back at you. You silently wave him in, as Seungcheol draws in a deep breath. 

"You're seeing someone?" He questions. "That's...wow. Nice."

"Yeah, I am." You respond as Hansol walks over to you. He's carrying something under his arm, but you can't tell what it is. It looks like some kind of clothes. He gestures to your phone, and you mouth 'Seungcheol' to him. He chuckles.

"What's his name?" Seungcheol asks. 

You roll your eyes. "It's on the RSVP, Cheol. Hansol. If you don't need anything else, he just got here. I'd like to spend time with him."

"Oh, sure." He almost sounds disappointed, but you don't let yourself dwell on it. "Yeah, uh, we'll see you in a month, then."

"See ya." You hang up before he can try to say anything else, then toss the phone onto your table. 

"No pajamas?" He gestures to you. 

"Hansol, it's only four." You reply. "I just got off work. I see you’re already comfy, though."

He grins at that. "Yeah, I had the day off. I found some old suits, and I didn't know what you were wearing. I figured we needed to match." 

"What do you even do for work?" You question, carrying a handful of bags into your kitchen. Hansol hesitates before grabbing the remaining bags and following behind you.

"I manage a skate shop." He answers. "The one downtown? It's next to that coffee shop that Mrs. Lee owns."

"Oh, I think I know what you're talking about." You nod, picturing it in your head already. The downtown area has always been pretty worn and grungy-looking, but it's also one of the oldest strips in the city. You wouldn't have imagined Hansol owning his own business, but you were pleasantly surprised with that answer. A skate shop suited him, too. 

"What about you?" He asks, setting his bags down on the counter beside him. He begins to unload the groceries as you put them away. You fall into a good rhythm before you look over to him. 

"I don't do anything exciting." You grin. "I'm a secretary for a law firm."

"Gross." Hansol teases. "Have you always wanted to do that?"

You shake your head. "Not necessarily. But it pays well, and I get my weekends off."

He nods as he watches you put the last of the items away. You pat down your dress, then look over to him. He's staring absently, like he isn't sure what to say next. 

"So, uh, your suits?" You remind him. "What do you have?"

"Oh." He looks under his arm, where the clothes were still neatly tucked away. "Right. Yeah, I haven't worn these in forever. I hope they still fit."

"I can alter them if you need." You shrug. "My mom taught me how to sew, you know."

The two of you make your way to the living room again, settling on the same couch you sat in several nights ago. 

"I didn't know that." Hansol comments. "But I guess I could see it. It fits you."

When you were a kid, your mother was a firm believer in teaching you basic life skills. You’d learned everything between cooking, sewing, gardening, baking–whatever she deemed would be necessary to live in case of emergencies. 

"Okay,” Hansol announces as he unfolds and lays out the clothes, “I've got two options. I have this plain black-and-white one, or a tan suit jacket with matching pants. I could wear a white button-up under it?"

You lean in closer, running your hand along the material of each outfit. They both look fine, but you hadn't even taken inventory of your own closet yet to find something to wear. It was almost endearing how eager he was to go on this trip. You push the thought away. As you try to make a decision, you remember a nice cocktail dress you had bought shortly after your breakup with Seungcheol: it fell just above the knees, and was a very nice shade of brown. An elegant color that complemented your skin tone nicely. If you remember correctly, Seungcheol's invite also had a dress code. Earthy tones. 

"Let's go with the tan one." You look up at him to find him watching you intently. You scoot away from him again. "I have a dress that will match."

Hansol clears his throat. "Yeah, cool."

The two of you fall into your usual silence. Hansol glances out the window, where you notice the faintest shimmer of silver dangling from his ear. You gasp, playfully shoving him. 

"An earring?" You ask as he turns to look at you. "I didn't know you had your ears pierced."

"All these months of sitting next to each other, and you're just now noticing?" He smirks. "Yeah, I've had them for a while. Will I need to take them out for the wedding?"

You quickly shake your head. "No, no. They're fine. I was just surprised to see them, I guess."

"I am a man of many surprises." He winks. "What're your plans for the rest of the evening?"

Really, you hadn't thought that far ahead. You figured your usual terrace-time (as Hansol has now dubbed it) would be on the agenda, as it was every night. They were enjoyable now, too. The new conversations are always enjoyable, but now, the company is growing on you, too. It was funny how Hansol already had a slot in your day-to-day life, but somehow managed to fit himself into it even more. Not that you were complaining. You were nowhere near complaining. 

"Not much." You answer. "I mean, probably change and make some dinner. Then, of course, terrace-time."

Hansol laughs. "Uh, how would you feel about skipping terrace-time?"

"What, why?" You frown. 

"I was thinking," he draws in a deep breath, "since we have to play these...roles...what if we just hung out today? Like, a normal hangout. No wallowing on the fire escape and smoking. I'm talking about proper conversation. I can make dinner."

You stare back at him, a little taken aback at the suggestion. If you didn't know any better, that would sound an awful lot like a date. But you knew it wasn't. It was strictly business, of course. It was probably smart, too. You knew the two of you needed to come up with a fake story about how you met and how long you'd been dating... you'd need to flesh out any details now so it didn't bite you in the ass later. 

"Is that too much?"

You blink a few times, realizing you spaced out on him. You quickly shake your head, then push yourself to your feet. 

"No, sorry." You smile at him gently. "I'm just tired. I think that would be a good plan, though. The more we know about each other, the better. Right?"

"Right." He quickly agrees.

You hesitate for a moment when you realize you're still in your work clothes. 

"Um, I'll change, then." You announce awkwardly. "If you want to get the stuff for dinner...?"

Hansol's eyes widen. "Oh, right." He quickly gathers the suits again. You watch as he retreats back out the window and disappears up the fire escape.

By the time the dreaded weekend rolls around, the realization that you’re seeing Seungcheol again settles like an unwelcome guest in the pit of your stomach. You’re sitting on the airplane beside Hansol, who is bobbing his head along to whatever music plays through his headphones. 

The only plus side is that, within the last month, you and Hansol have gotten fairly close. You’ve learned a lot about him, and you guys came up with the perfect cover story for your fake relationship. You’ve both recited it a million times by now: you’d run into each other one day when you were both coming home from work. When you found out you were neighbors, you started spending more time together, and Hansol finally asked you out. 

You were just hoping the story would be enough to get through this weekend. 

As you sink lower into your chair, you feel Hansol tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. You roll your head to look at him, and he takes his headphones off. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

Shrugging, you look back out the window. “I haven’t seen Seungcheol in almost five years. I’m just nervous about what kind of emotions I’ll feel when I see him again. It’s been easy to avoid him since we didn’t live near each other, but now…” You trail off. Below, the sky is clear and blue. 

“You won’t be alone, though.” Hansol nudges you gently. “I’ll be there with you. Besides, we can make fun of how gross the food is and how fancy everything will be compared to our shitholes of apartments.”

You snort at that. “Knowing Seungcheol, the whole place will probably be dripping in his parents’ money.” You sit up to face him again, and his body is already facing yours. 

“God, to have that kind of money.” Hansol clicks his tongue. “You think I’ll ever reach that point selling skateboards?”

“Highly unlikely.” You respond. You don’t remember when the two of you got closer, but you don’t mind. His knee occasionally bumps your leg as you talk. “But it’s okay, because I won’t make that much answering phones, either.”

He laughs, laying his head back against the headrest. “Damn, we won’t have terrace-time this weekend.”

“Hm,” you sigh, “what’re the odds our hotel room has a balcony?”

Hansol crosses his fingers as he turns his attention back to his phone. He doesn’t move away from you, though, as he gently leans against your shoulder with his own. You close your eyes, trying to get comfortable. Having Hansol here may actually be really nice, you think. 

And maybe, hopefully, having him with you means this weekend will be manageable instead of intolerable. 

Good news: the hotel room has a balcony.

Bad news: it only has one bed.

You and Hansol have been standing in the entryway for a few minutes now, unsure of what to say or do. You couldn’t exactly fault Seungcheol for booking it this way, though, because he was under the assumption that you were coming with your boyfriend. You just didn’t account for the fact that hotel rooming would be an issue until now. 

“Okay,” Hansol finally speaks, taking a few steps into the room, “we can be mature about this, right?”

“Right!” You reply, but the way your voice wavers hardly hides the fact that this makes you nervous. Maybe if you just slept really close to the edge of the bed, it wouldn’t be noticeable that your friend was only a few feet away from you.

Hansol tosses his suitcase into the chair in the corner of the room. You watch as he opens up the blinds, then steps onto the balcony. Trailing behind, you set your suitcase on the bed and flop down beside it. 

“Damn, who knew that Hawaii would be so…” Hansol trails off. “Hm. Hot?”

A laugh bubbles out from you as you hear him wander back inside. He flops beside you onto the bed. 

“What were you going to say?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. He shrugs, then brings his hands up behind his head. 

“I was going to say cool, but we’re supposed to hate this trip, right?” He replies. “Or, at least hate the person who booked it and invited you.”

You hum. “I don’t think Hawaii needs to catch our smoke because I’m mad at my ex.”

“True.” Hansol agrees, then shouts, “Sorry, Hawaii!” Out the window. 

You playfully smack his side before sitting up, but Hansol is laughing. When you glance down at him, his laughter slows and something shifts. 

It wasn’t noticeable immediately. It starts with your stomach flipping at the way he is looking up at you. Then, your heart quickens and you can feel your smile falter. It seems like Hansol feels it, too, because you see the corners of his mouth twitch and the tips of his ears turn pink. 

In all the months you’ve known him, you’ve never realized how attractive he is. Sure, you always thought he was decent-looking. But right now, as he stares up at you with his soft eyes and messy, brown hair, it really registers to you that Hansol is beyond cute. Beyond handsome. You’re not sure you have a word to describe it. 

You clear your throat and stand, quickly pushing whatever that feeling is out of the way. It has to just be the change of location, right? Don’t people usually have flings when they go on vacation? You’re nervously tucking your hair behind your ears when you hear him stand from the bed. 

“Um, do we want to shower and go check out the beach?” You ask, not daring yourself to look at him just yet. Your cheeks feel hot, and you’re not even sure why you’re blushing. Nothing happened. He just looked at you, and you feel a bit ridiculous for letting it fluster you so much. “I think I want to freshen up, but then I figure we can explore? There’s supposed to be a bar somewhere in here.”

“Sure.” Hansol says, his voice low. “Uh, you can shower first. I think I need a smoke break after the plane ride.”

God, you’d kill for one, too. But you think you need the distance from Hansol more, as you slide into the bathroom to start the shower. 

Yes, distance will be good. 

You’re finishing off your second margarita as you and Hansol sit in the sand. The waves crash against the shore, bringing a refreshing breeze with it. Beside you, Hansol is pressing the butt of his cigarette to his lips and inhaling slowly. When he pulls it away again, he glances over to you. 

“You know, I think this beats our fire escape by a long shot.” He states. “The air here feels more fresh.” 

You set your empty glass in the sand next to you, then lay back. Your hair fans out behind you. “That’s because the air pollution in Korea is so much worse than here.” You pause. “Plus, we’re on vacation. I think everything feels better on vacation.” 

Hansol sighs, and your usual silence falls between you once again. It’s a clear evening, making the stars totally visible from where you lay. You can make out a few constellations like the big dipper and orion’s belt. As the alcohol settles in your system, you can feel the tequila catching up to you as your head begins to feel light. 

The shower earlier helped, and you think that fleeting moment in the hotel room was just a combination of exhaustion and all the extra time you’ve spent with Hansol. The rest of the night has felt normal, and you were grateful for it. It’s not like you have anything against him, but you’d be lying if you said a portion of you wasn’t nervous to get involved in anything romantic again. 

Assuming that was what Hansol felt too, anyway. 

“Hey,” he says as he stretches out and lays beside you, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but…what happened between you and Seungcheol?” 

You shift slightly. “Oh.”

“Sorry if that’s crossing some kind of boundary.” He quickly adds. “I was just curious. It seems to be weighing on you a lot, so—“

“It’s okay,” You reassure him. “I don’t care that you asked. I just haven’t talked about it in a few years.”

Hansol is quiet, as if to give you the space you need to either share more or stop the conversation all together. You draw in a deep breath. As if the margarita has made a decision for you, you begin to feel the words spill out before you can stop them. 

“Seungcheol and I first met at university.” You explain. “He was going for law, and I was going for business. We shared a few classes, and started going out in our second to last year of our undergrad programs.”

Hansol is quiet, so you keep going. 

“Things were fine for a while,” you continue as you fold your hands across your stomach. “We dated for three years. I guess somewhere along the way he decided that he didn’t love me anymore. He just forgot to tell me that before he started seeing someone else.”

You hear Hansol sit up beside you. You turn your head to find him frowning. 

“He cheated on you?” He asks. 

“More or less,” you shrug. “Anyway, the girl he’s marrying is who he did it with. That’s why this whole invitation has felt like some sick joke.”

Hansol’s jaw tightens, as he looks out at the ocean in front of you both. “What a dick.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” You scoff. “But, yeah. I’m really appreciative that you offered to come with me, though. It’s only been eight hours, but I’m having fun so far.”

When he turns to look at you again, you feel the same shift as you did back in the hotel room. With the tequila in your system, though, the feeling is a lot more intense. His features seem amplified in the moonlight as the breeze sweeps through his brown hair. 

“I’m having fun, too.” He replies as a smile teases at the corners of his lips. “It’s easy to have fun with you. I haven’t had that for a while.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh. Well, good. I’m glad. Me neither.” 

Hansol stays like that for a beat before laying down again beside you. You’re suddenly very aware of how close his arm is, and how it brushes against yours when he moves or shifts in the slightest. You don’t move, though, and neither does he. 

Desperate to break the silence this time, your tipsy mind begins to scramble for a topic change or something else to bring up entirely. You try to swallow down your nerves, but it doesn’t do much. 

“Uh, Hansol?” You turn your head to look at him. “Why do you think it took us so long to finally talk to each other?” 

“Hm,” He muses, stretching his arms out before folding them across his chest. It’s his turn to stare up at the stars, and you wonder if he sees the same constellations you had a few minutes ago. “Well, do you want the truth?”

“Depends on what the truth is.” You mumble nervously. 

Then, completely serious, he says, “I was coaxing.”

You blink, not understanding initially. When Hansol turns his head to face you, it’s obvious he’s trying (and failing) to hold in his laughter. That’s when you remember the serial killer joke you’d made to him when you first met. You gasp, and the laugh practically bursts out of him. 

“I knew you’d be the coaxing type!” You exclaim, quickly scrambling to sit up. “You’re too nice to kill right away. You know? I think you’d need to warm up to the idea first before giving yourself enough courage to do it.”

His laughter slows as his smile falters for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, his tone softer than before, “I’d definitely need the courage, first.” 

“Just, do it in my sleep, okay?” You tease as you push yourself to your feet. “If I need to go out, I’d rather not be awake for the whole suffering part.”

Hansol hums. “Noted.”

The morning sun seeps through the curtains in the hotel room, and you’re unbelievably warm. As you shift to push the blankets off of you, you begin to register the fact that half of Hansol’s body is currently draped over you. Your legs are a tangled mess, and he has his arm strewn over your stomach with his head in the crook of your neck. 

It takes all but sixty seconds to fully process its Hansol before your breath catches in your throat. You freeze, unsure if you should move or not. You definitely did not fall asleep this way–in fact, you were so close to falling off the bed when you first got in last night, that you were wondering if it would actually happen. Not this. Not the exact opposite.

When Hansol shifts slightly, you feel your heart drop completely. He lifts his head enough to look down at you. You watch as he goes through the same motions you just had: letting his eyes adjust, realizing where he is, and registering the position he’s waking up in. His eyes widen as he quickly scrambles back. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He says, his voice low and groggy from waking up. “I did not mean to–”

“No, it's fine.” You sit up. “Um, it just surprised me is all, you know?”

Hansol nods, running a hand through his messy hair. The silence is awkward as you both sit across from each other, unsure of what to do next. You dare a quick look at him, as he is distracting himself with his phone. He’s got bags under his eyes, and you wonder how long it has been since he got a full night’s rest like that. You knew for yourself it had been a while. More specifically, since Seungcheol left. 

You didn’t even remember falling asleep last night. The last thing you remembered was laying on the edge of your side of the bed, and laughing at some horrible reality show that Hansol had put on the TV in the room. When you laid down, you were out cold. The craziest part is you slept really well. It was a heavy kind of sleep that made you actually feel well-rested and not just more tired. 

Glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table, you realize just how long you guys had slept. 

11:38 am.

You got into bed around nine o’clock last night, which means you slept for fourteen hours. The thought makes you laugh before you fall against the mattress again. Hansol’s attention shifts towards you as he lowers his phone into his lap. 

“What?” He asks, laughing lightly with you. 

“It’s just been forever since I’ve slept.” You reply, looking up at him. “Did you even see what time it was?”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah, uh, I did.” He says. “We missed breakfast, though.”

“Do you usually eat breakfast?”

He grins at that. “Nope.”

You laugh again as Hansol lays beside you once more. The screen door to the balcony was left open last night, and you can hear the sounds of people talking outside and cars driving past. Something about the laziness and simplicity of the morning makes you feel light–like you were getting everything with Hansol you could’ve had with Seungcheol. 

You’d talked with Seungcheol in the past about moving in together. Sleeping in like this or wasting the day away in bed were the things you used to daydream about with him, but here you were, sharing it with your next door neighbor instead. Truthfully, though, Hansol was now past the point of ‘just your neighbor’. He was more, but the capacity of which wasn’t fully clear to you. If you’d asked the week prior, you’d say platonic in a heartbeat. But now, you weren’t sure. It was muddy. You wondered if Hansol felt the same. 

“You know what I’d love, though?” He blurts.

You look at him, and he’s already staring back at you. “What is that?”

“I’d love some terrace-time.”

After each taking a quick shower, you and Hansol find yourselves comfortable on the loveseat that sits on the balcony. Hansol is leaning back against the wall behind you, while you’re leaning forward, looking at the view of the beach below. Despite the atmosphere being a bit more cozy than the fire escape, you almost miss the rickety stairs and sketchy landing outside of his apartment. 

“What time is Prince Charming’s dinner tonight?” Hansol muses as he finishes off his cigarette. He tosses the butt into the ashtray, then lifts his head to look at you. 

You glance at him over your shoulder. “I think he told guests to be there at five.”

“So, we’ve got some time?” He checks the time on his phone. “They have rental bikes at the beach. I was looking at them last night. How would you feel about a bike ride around the island?”

You smile, pressing your own cigarette into the ashtray. “Is this more coaxing?”

“Oh, well, of course.” Hansol nods. “Gotta get your guard down.”

“I guess a bike ride could be fun,” you hesitate, “but I haven’t rode one in years.”

He laughs, then leans forward with you. His knee bumps yours, and your heart skips a beat. “You gonna crash and burn on me, or do I need to teach you how to ride one all over again?”

This is flirting, right? This has to be flirting. Or maybe you were reading too much into the past twenty four hours. You aren’t even sure anymore. Your thoughts are moving faster than your brain is able to catch up, at this point. Deciding to test the waters, you choose to tease him back. 

“Maybe I’ll need you to teach me.” You say lightly, trying to match his tone. “I think I’ve forgotten all of it.”

Hansol clicks his tongue as a smirk plays on his lips. “Tragic. I guess I’ll have to, then.”

When he leans back again, you feel your face warm. Hansol is flirting. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn your attention back to the beach. 

You find out very quickly that you definitely did forget how to ride a bike, as your foot is planted firmly on the ground beside you. As embarrassing as it is, you’re terrified to push off and the worst part is Hansol can tell. 

Once his helmet is on, he glances back at you, trying to hold back any laughter that might come out. You groan. “Seriously, I don’t even want to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He replies, his grin becoming more apparent. 

“You were thinking about it.” You pout, sitting down on the seat. “I mean, I’m almost thirty and I can’t ride a bike. That’s a little pathetic.”

“Nah,” Hansol waves you off as he props the stand, then rests his bike on it. He walks over to you, patting the helmet on your head. “We’ve all got our quirks.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, what’s yours, then?”

He thinks for a moment, then says, “I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“That’s not a quirk, that’s just a fact.” You argue. He laughs as he walks behind your bike, then leans forward. 

“If you’re done, I’m ready to get this show on the road.” He announces. “You wanna put your hands on the handlebars?”

“Not really.” You sheepishly admit. You shift in your seat, feeling how close he is as his black t-shirt gently brushes your back. You swallow nervously, feeling grateful he can’t see the blush creeping up onto your face. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He reassures you. “I won’t let go until you’re ready.”

After a few grueling seconds, you lean forward to grab the handles. At the same time, Hansol leans forward, resting his hands on yours. Your heart skyrockets at the touch, and you wonder if you’ll go into cardiac arrest on the spot. The two of you sit like that momentarily, before he clears his throat. 

“Okay,” he says, “when you push off, I want you to pedal. I’ll keep you upright and help you steer, so don’t worry about that.”

“What if I’m already worrying?” You turn to look at him, when you about bump your head into his from how close he was. It clearly catches you both off guard, as Hansol blinks a few times. Then, he manages to give you a smile. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He replies. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

The statement feels like it carries more weight to it than just riding a bike. You feel it settle deep inside of you, like it’s trying to make a home in the parts of your heart that still haven’t healed from Seungcheol. All you’re able to muster is a meek nod, as you look ahead at the sidewalk again. 

“Ready?” Hansol asks. 

“Ready.” 

Drawing in a deep breath, you push off and bring your feet to the pedals. The bike wobbles at first, but Hansol keeps it steady like he said he would. You go slow at first, when slowly the motions start to come back to you. 

As you gain a bit more confidence, Hansol says, “the left handle is your break. You want to try stopping?”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, which does nothing to calm the nerves that have been brewing since you got here. You do as he says, though, and slowly press down on the break. The bike comes to a stop, prompting you to sigh in relief. 

“You did it!” He exclaims. You look up at him, unable to contain the smile on your face. He returns it, then sticks his hands into the pockets of his joggers. “Told you I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh a little breathlessly. “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Want to try it on your own?” He hums. “I’ll stay right by your side for the whole ride.”

This time, it feels easier to believe him. So, you quickly nod, already prepping to push off. 

“Ready when you are.”

You and Hansol sit outside of the restaurant when you arrive as you stall for time before walking in. Just beyond those doors was Seungcheol and the same girl he left you for five years ago. You hadn’t faced either of them since, and you were feeling a bit sick to your stomach. Thankfully, Hansol was in no rush as he stood beside you. 

The two of you cleaned up, and put on some nicer clothes before coming here. Contrary to your initial doubt, Hansol cleans up very well. It was almost weird to not see him in his usual comfy clothes as he wore some nicer jeans and a button-down top. His hair was pushed back slightly, but still had the endearing messier look that you’ve grown fond of. It was true to him, and familiar to you. Kind of like a nice reminder that despite the facade, this is still the same Hansol you’ve sat next to for almost a year and spent all your sleepless nights with. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he leans against the wall behind the two of you. 

“Sick.” You laugh. “I don’t really know what to expect when we go in, you know?”

He hums, then holds his hand out. “Good thing you’re not alone, remember?” He reminds you coyly. “Just think about it this way: the faster we get this over with, the faster we can go back to the hotel for some much needed terrace-time. Maybe another reality show–?”

You make a face at that. “God, no more reality TV. But terrace-time sounds nice.”

Tentatively, you put your hand in his. Hansol smiles down at you before giving it a squeeze, then leading you both into the restaurant. It’s a nicer venue, with dim lights and light jazz music playing. The hostess directs you to the back party room, where the rest of the wedding guests are already mingling and drinking. Hansol pulls you closer to him as the two of you navigate towards an empty table to sit. Your eyes begin to wander, when you find Seungcheol at the front of the room. He’s laughing with Minghao, one of your mutual friends. 

“That’s him,” you lean towards Hansol, tugging on his sleeve. He follows your gaze towards Seungcheol, and his jaw tightens. He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t have time to register it before your ex notices you, and begins walking over. 

Your eyes widen, and Hansol is quick to throw his arm around you, pulling you into his side. Seungcheol offers an awkward smile as he looks between the two of you. He looks the same as he did five years ago, only his age is beginning to show on his face a bit. 

“Hey,” he breathes, “you made it!”

“I did RSVP.” You reply, forcing a smile. “Uh, Cheol, this is my boyfriend, Hansol.”

Seungcheol takes one look at Hansol, and his demeanor changes instantly. He straightens his back a bit, then extends a hand towards him. 

“Hey, man, glad you could make it.” He says evenly. You almost laugh. 

Hansol shakes his hand, and is quick to drop it. “Yeah, congrats.”

“Well, we aren’t married yet.” Seungcheol laughs awkwardly. “But, uh, I’ll take the early congrats. Thanks. So..how long have you two known each other?”

Before you have the chance to reply, Hansol cuts in, “almost a year. We live in the same apartment building.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol’s expression twists as he looks over to you, “is it still that shitty place near downtown?”

“Well, not all of us can live off our parents’ wealth.” Hansol retorts. “Besides, it’s not that terrible. You know, if you’re humble enough to acknowledge that it’s a roof over your head.”

Oh god, you want to hide. You’re not sure what kind of stand-off these two were starting, but you did not want to be in the middle of it. You can feel Hansol’s grip on your shoulder tighten slightly. Seungcheol folds his arms across his chest. 

“You’re right.” He nods curtly. “I should be more mindful of the fact that I’ve grown up a bit more privileged than others. Sorry to offend.”

His tone doesn’t quite match the words he’s saying, and Hansol seems to notice. You don’t want to give either of them the opportunity to keep arguing, so you decide to butt in. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of people to catch up with.” You say with a gentle smile. “You know, people you know better than us? I mean, Hansol and I are here all weekend. We can talk more later.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs, glancing between the two of you again as if to size Hansol up. Then, he returns your smile. “Really, I’m happy you could make it. I’ll just…see you around, then?”

He hesitates before leaving, but once he does, you sink into Hansol’s side and let out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in. Your head rests against his shoulder. Hansol stiffens slightly at the gesture before relaxing. 

“Well,” you announce, “that was fun.”

Hansol laughs, sinking lower into his chair. “He sucks.”

You can’t help but laugh in response as you pull away from him. He looks over to you as the annoyance washes off his face, turning into a lopsided grin instead. 

“I think we need some drinks.” You comment. “I’d definitely like to drink.”

“Awesome.” Hansol quickly nods. “I’m right there with you.”

“Whoooaa,” Hansol steadies you as you both stumble back into the hotel room. 

You’re laughing and everything feels good. Your head has the perfect amount of buzz, and you feel warm and happy and the stress of the weekend is miraculously gone. As you flop onto the bed, you kick your heels off and stretch. 

“They made some good cocktails,” you hum. “Really strong.”

“A little too strong.” Hansol teases as he sits beside you. “You should drink some water.”

“I’m fine.” You slur, rolling your head to the side to look up at him. His focus is on his shoes as he slides them off, but the only place your drunken mind can wander to is how good he looks.

You think about how nice he’s been, and how fun it was riding bikes today, and waking up beside him, and how hot it was when he stood up to Seungcheol. You tug lightly on his sleeve, prompting him to look back at you. 

“What is it?” He asks, leaning back on his hands. “You want me to go grab you some from the front desk? I think they’re selling water bottles. I thought I saw some Gatorade, too–”

“You’re so pretty.” You coo happily, cutting him off from his sentence. “You’re so nice, too. So nice to me.”

His smile falters for a second, like you caught him off guard. He laughs a little breathlessly. “You’re so drunk.” 

“Mmm but I think that when I’m sober, too,” you muse. “I wish we talked sooner.”

“Yeah.” Hansol mumbles. His gaze softens. “At least we are now, right? Better late than never.”

Your eyelids begin to feel heavy as the alcohol threatens to let sleep take you over. Bringing your hands to your eyes, you attempt to rub away the fatigue. It doesn’t work. 

“Can we sleep together again?” You ask as you sit up. 

Hansol blinks. “Like, what, cuddle?” 

You nod as you push yourself to your feet and stumble towards your suitcase for some pajamas. As a yawn slips past your lips, you look back over to him. 

“It was comfy,” you hum. “The only time I've ever slept well was with you.”

Hansol hesitates as he watches you close your bag again. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Yeah. That’s fine.” 

After clumsily changing in the bathroom, you drag yourself into bed, where Hansol already sat, watching the TV. He changed into his familiar sweatpants and hoodie combo that you usually saw him in, and you felt your heart flutter. The longer you were around him, the more he began to feel like home. 

Though, maybe in a way he always had been. 

The headache you wake up with is violent, and out to seek vengeance on you for the amount you drank the night before. The sunlight in the room is too bright, the soft whirring of the AC is too loud, and you want nothing more than to hide and stay in the room. 

Beside you, Hansol’s presence is warm and grounding. He’s still snoring lightly, with his arms lightly wrapped around your waist. Your face is cozy against his chest, and he smells like a linen closet. No overbearing cologne like Seungcheol would always wear, just fresh and clean and comfortable. 

You softly grab ahold of his hoodie, pulling yourself closer to him. If you could live like this for the day, you’ll be content. But then Hansol stirs, and your heart breaks a little that it’s over already. When you don’t lift your head immediately, you feel Hansol’s grip tighten just the slightest. 

“How hungover are you?” He mumbles, his voice low and gravelly from waking up. 

“Too much.” You groan. “I hope I didn’t do or say anything stupid yesterday.” 

Hansol is quiet. Then, “You don’t remember anything?” 

“I remember leaving the restaurant.” You yawn, accompanied with a shrug. “I don’t really remember coming back here, though. It’s a bit fuzzy.”

“Oh.” Hansol says. 

You frown, then finally lift your head to look at him. “Why did something happen? Did I say something horribly embarrassing?”

The corners of his mouth twitch before he finally smiles. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes, though. But you figure it’s probably because he’s still waking up. “Nah,” he reassures you. “Nothing too crazy.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling away and it almost hurts when he does. Hansol rolls onto his back, then reaches for his phone on his bedside table. You sigh, then follow suit, grabbing your phone from under your pillow. It’s already almost ten, and the wedding starts in three hours. 

“I’ve been sleeping so well since we got here.” You announce, glancing over to Hansol. He’s scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah, uh,” he looks at you briefly before his attention flicks back to his phone, “me too.”

You discard your phone again, then roll on your side to face him. “What do you think our sleeping habits will be like when we get home?” You ask. “I’m holding out hope they’re going to get better.”

“I don’t think they will,” he admits with a laugh. “Besides, what’ll we do with terrace-time if our sleep schedules get fixed?”

“Damn,” you click your tongue. “Can’t give that up. It’s too precious to me.”

You’re staring at him, hoping for something–anything. A reaction, an agreement…you begin to wonder if maybe the vacation was just getting to you both. You’ve heard countless times of friends falling into weird situationships when they’re away from home, so maybe you’ve clung onto Hansol since he’s here with you and it’s easy. Except, the amount of times you try to tell yourself that, it doesn’t fully feel true. 

“I think I’ll shower and start to get ready.” He states, setting his phone down again. “Unless you want to go first?”

You shake your head, rolling onto your back. “No, you can go. I think I need a little bit longer to wake up.”

He says something else to you, but you don’t register it. Instead, you absentmindedly watch as he gathers his suit, then disappears into the bathroom. Once the water turns on, you bury your face in your hands. 

Maybe you just need to get over it. It’d be embarrassing if you tried to push the matter further only to find out Hansol never reciprocated those feelings. Besides, now that you knew each other beyond terrace-time, you didn’t want to lose him completely over some silly feelings from the adrenaline of vacation. He’s a good person, and good people have been hard for you to come across lately. That’s something you didn’t want to take for granted.

Poking your head around the corner, you see Hansol smoking on the balcony. His suit jacket is draped over his shoulder, as he stares out at the beach below. You can’t get your dress zipped and you feel a little embarrassed by it, but you also can’t exactly show up with your bare back on display and the risk of the dress falling off. 

“Uh, hey Hansol?” You meekly call out. He glances over his shoulder towards you. “I, uh, need help with my dress.”

He tosses the remainder of his cigarette into the ashtray, then meanders over to you. After draping his suit jacket onto the bed, you push the door open slightly. You’re holding the front of your dress up with one hand, giving a lopsided smile. 

“I can’t get it zipped.” You laugh nervously. 

Hansol doesn’t say anything at first. But his eyes drag over your body before meeting your gaze, and you feel your face flush. He swallows. 

“Yeah, okay.” He nods. “Um, you need to turn around, though, so I can zip it.”

“Oh!” You chirp. “Right. Sorry.” 

You spin to face the mirror across from you in the bathroom. Hansol hesitates before grabbing your waist with one hand, and the zipper in the other. His knuckles are cold as they gently brush against your spine while he zips. You hold your breath when he’s done, and neither of you move for what feels like several minutes. His hand is still at your waist, and you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is beating.

“Hansol–” You stop, not really sure what you were going to even say. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, his breath hot behind your ear. 

“I, uh,” you shake your head, like that’ll snap you out of it. You settle on giving him a smile. “Thanks.”

He returns your smile. “All I did was zip your dress.”

“No, I mean,” you turn to face him, “thanks for coming with me. This definitely wouldn’t have been as fun without you.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Yeah, for sure. It’s been great. It’s nice having a new friend gained from all of this, you know?”

Friend. “Yeah.” You agree. “Although, I do miss our own spaces. I think terrace-time at the beach feels a little too luxurious for me, you know?”

“Definitely.” He gives your waist a quick squeeze, before dropping his hand at his side. “What do you think, should we get this wedding over with?”

“Please.” You groan, following him out of the bathroom. “Do not let me drink as much tonight, okay? Unless something horribly awful and dramatic happens, then I’ll probably want to forget it.”

“Heard.” He nods, slipping on his suit jacket. “Only getting plastered in case of an emergency: you got it.”

The venue is about as lavish as you were expecting it to be. There’s a gorgeous, floral archway at the end of the aisle, and elegant green, beige, and white decorations everywhere. The second that Seungcheol is in Hansol’s sight, he grabs your hand and tugs you closer to him. 

You take your seats towards the back, and settle as the last of the crowd trickles in. Despite being out of his line of sight, Hansol keeps your hand in his as he traces lazy circles on the back of yours with his thumb. His hand is larger than yours, but seems to mold perfectly against it. 

“What kind of food do you think will be at the reception?” Hansol asks, leaning close to you. 

You snicker, turning to look at him. “Probably something fancy that I’ve never heard of.” You whisper back. He’s close and your heart is beating at a million times per second, you’re pretty sure. You wonder if he can tell. 

“I just hope it’s something edible.” He grins, his voice low. “I’m a picky eater. What if there’s peanuts?” 

“If there’s peanuts, then I guess I’m killing you first.” You comment. “I’d have the high ground.” 

Hansol’s eyes widen. “I thought I was the one doing the killing here?” 

Instead of saying anything, you give him a wink and face forward again as you hear music begin to fill the venue. Hansol squeezes your hand gently, but doesn’t bother letting go. Not yet, anyway. But you’re really hoping he doesn’t. You like the way it feels in yours—warm and grounding. 

The two of you watch the families shuffle into place along with any remaining guests who have yet to sit. A few minutes pass before the ceremony begins, and everyone stands. The wedding party seems to take their sweet time walking down the aisle, couple by couple, until finally Yuna begins to walk with her father.

She looks beautiful. Even prettier in person, and seeing her eyes light up when she sees Seungcheol makes you feel…at peace, almost. You let your gaze follow hers to where Cheol is standing, with tears threatening the corners of his eyes. They look so happy. And a sudden feeling washes over you that since meeting Hansol, you haven’t spent your nights thinking about Seungcheol anymore. You realize that seeing them commit to each other like this was the exact closure you needed. 

But you also realize that you’re pretty sure you have feelings for Hansol. 

You forget his hand is in yours until he lets go and begins to lightly rub the small of your back. For a moment, you wonder if he thinks you’re hurt by the scene playing out before you. But when you glance back at him, whatever expression you’re wearing seems to clear it up for him. He smiles as everyone sits again, then shifts his arm so it’s wrapped around your shoulders. 

You like Hansol. 

Whatever the officiant is saying quickly becomes background noise, as your mind begins to spiral. This whole time you’ve been trying to write it off by the amount of time you’ve spent together, but you’re truly not sure if that’s the case anymore. He’s kind, and funny, and seems to know how to cheer you up despite you not ever verbally telling him. You glance over to him, but his attention is on the ceremony. As if he can feel your gaze on him, he looks over briefly, then smiles. 

‘What?’ he mouths. 

You grin, shaking your head. ‘Nothing’ you mouth back. 

After some obligatory introductions to some of Seungcheol’s family and friends, you and Hansol wander outside of the venue for a smoke. The butterflies in your stomach have not left since your realization during the ceremony, and part of you really wants to ask Hansol his thoughts about…well, everything. Getting closer to each other, this trip, and every interaction in between–you know in your heart that there had to have been something simmering this whole time. 

“I’m almost sad to go home tomorrow.” Hansol suddenly says as he leans against the wall beside you. “This trip has been a lot of fun. Quick, but fun.”

You hum, flicking some of the ash off your cigarette. “It’s been…” you trail off, not really sure where you were going with your sentence. Finally, you say, “Hansol, are things going to go back to normal when we get home?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, pushing himself off the wall to stand in front of you. “Define ‘normal’.”

You shrug. “Like, not seeing each other or hanging out everyday. Terrace-time being quiet…” you clarify. “I just–I guess I don’t really want to leave here and lose all of that when we get home.”

Hansol studies you for a minute, and you feel your cheeks warm. He presses the butt of the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly, before pulling it away again. When he exhales, he offers you a gentle smile. 

“To be quite frank, I don’t think I can even try to force myself to go back to that.” He admits. “Uh, but I would like to ask you something. I just need to know if it’s true or not.”

“Anything.” You reply quickly, suddenly growing nervous. 

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, clearly nervous as well. “When you were drunk last night, you told me you thought I was pretty.”

“Oh my god–”

“Hey, I’m not done,” he laughs, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray beside the two of you. “You said you would say it sober, too. When you said you didn’t remember anything from last night, I kinda wondered if it was true or not.”

At this point, your face is probably bright red. Hansol seems to notice as he bites back a smile, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Jesus,” you laugh nervously, turning your head down towards your heels. “Uh, that’s really embarrassing on my part but…yeah. I do.”

When he doesn’t reply right away, you’re scared he’s going to reject you or tell you he thinks of you only as a friend. You force yourself to look up at him when a few moments pass, and his smile is gone, replaced by a much softer expression. 

“Good.” He finally says, taking a step closer to you. “Because I think the same thing about you.”

“Wait, really?” You straighten your posture, putting the rest of your own cigarette out in the ashtray. “Oh my God, I thought I was imagining things.”

Hansol presses his brows together. “You knew?”

“No!” You quickly say. “Not really. I mean, I thought you might’ve been flirting with me this whole time, but I was kind of worried it was just because of the fact we were on vacation and had spent a lot of time together. I didn’t think you really–”

You barely have time to register the fact that his lips are on yours before he’s cupping your face, and backing you into the wall. Your eyes flutter closed as you melt into his touch almost immediately. His lips are soft as they move against yours, slowly and carefully like he’s savoring every moment of it–like he’ll never get the opportunity again. 

But, really, you’d like to do this every second of every day with him now that you know what kissing him feels like. 

Hansol pulls away momentarily, prompting you to open your eyes. His chest is quickly rising and falling from the adrenaline of suddenly kissing you. His own cheeks are flushed, but the way he’s looking at you makes you weak in the knees. It’s in a way that not even Seungcheol has looked at you: with so much adoration. 

“So,” he sighs, his breath fanning against your face, “do you want to be my real girlfriend or whatever?”

You shrug lazily, trying to be nonchalant with him. But your giddy grin gives you away when you say, “I mean, I guess I will. Or whatever.”

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